


Singularity

by bloodyfandom



Category: Iron Man - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Polyamory, Science Bros, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-26 01:45:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1670171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodyfandom/pseuds/bloodyfandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony, somehow, becomes Bruce's solace in the haze of rage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Curvature

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how this happened. I haven't watched all of the MCU movies but when has that ever stopped me from writing fic? ;)
> 
> I'm on tumblr! http://bloodyhellkira.tumblr.com/

There are only a few stragglers now, one of them held firmly in a headlock by Captain America, another pinned down by Black Widow who has a vengeful look in her eye that makes Tony wince in sympathy, and a third who's just been hoisted up into the air by Falcon. Tony has been calling him Bird Guy just to watch Steve slowly blow a gasket, but Tony had made Sam a new, even better set of wings, and (he'd die before he said it out loud but...) he personally thought it was a thing of beauty to watch Falcon fly. It was graceful, an art, a ballet. The first time Sam had strapped on his new wings Tony had watched him fly for a good thirty minutes before he'd remembered he was supposed to be assessing flight patterns and possible points for tweaking.

 

Anyway, aliens, man. Tony was starting to think maybe human beings weren't the assholes of the universe after all.

 

Everything's settling now and the Big Guy is standing off to the side attempting to wind down when an alien, previously thought incapacitated, rises up and fires off a single blast right into Hulk's chest. Clint, from his perch, puts an arrow through the thing's head but Hulk is ready to go back to full rage and Tony does possibly one of the stupidest things he's ever done in his life. He goes to the Big Guy's side and tries to calm him down before he can wreak any havoc.

 

“Hey,” he says, voice gentle and low, “Bruce.”

 

The Hulk roars, just over his head and Tony does his best not to flinch away as that big green head ducks down and he's leveled with the full intensity of that stare.

 

“Come on, Big Guy, battle's over,” Tony soothes, glancing over to Steve who nods.

 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees the first responders making their way in, while Natasha and Clint direct them where they think they need to go, and Falcon checks to make sure all the other aliens are _staying_ down.

 

The Hulk is shaking with restrained rage, Bruce battling the Big Guy for dominance. Tony, taking a deep breath, armors down everything from the waist up, pieces falling away as he reaches out. He lays one hand on a clenched fist, wishing he prayed, wishing he believed there was anything to pray to. The Big Guy doesn't knock him into the stratosphere though, so Tony places his other hand on Hulk's other fist.

 

“Bruce,” he tries again, “look at me. We're done here. We're ok.”

 

Something seems to break through and there's a flicker of Bruce in those eyes. The Big Guy gives a full body shudder, skin rippling in a way that makes Tony's stomach turn a little, and then green gives way to tan flesh. The behemoth shrinks back down into the scientist and Bruce stumbles, sagging into Tony when the other man catches him under the arms.

 

“You ok?”

 

“Yeah,” Bruce nods, breath heaving out of him as he trembles in Tony's arms.

 

“You had me worried for a minute there.”

 

“I had me worried for a minute there too.”

 

Tony chuckles and feels Bruce smile against his bare shoulder and knows it'll be alright.

 


	2. Gravitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Licking his lips, Tony thinks about grounding, about lightning, and electricity, about the way he feels when the entire world is spinning apart around him and all he needs is something solid to cling to until gravity remembers it's a law and not a polite suggestion.

“Hey, Bruce!” Tony bites into his apple, eyes scanning over the printouts in his other hand, “I've got some interesting data I want you to look at, I think...”  
  
His sentence trails off as he sees Bruce standing, straining, shaking violently as he struggles not to rage out.  
  
Tossing the paper and the apple aside, Tony edges closer, keeping his posture relaxed and loose.  
  
“Hey, Bruce,” he repeats, softer, gentler.  
  
Bruce's eyes flick up to his, one green and one brown.  
  
“Stay back,” he grinds out.  
  
Tony scrunches up his face a little and shakes his head, “Nope. Wanna tell me what set it off?”  
  
Swallowing, Bruce's eyes flick to the laptop. Tony turns it towards himself, glancing over the screen, brow furrowing. He tries to keep the sadness and frustration out of his eyes and his voice.  
  
“You can't read stuff like this, Bruce,” Tony sighs, clicking out of the screen.  
  
“You never tell me...you don't tell me the truth!” Bruce growls.  
  
“Does it help to know when people die by accident? I don't tell you because I don't look. I'm not going to torture myself with it. Sometimes there's collateral damage,” Tony stands in front of him, “but how many more people would die if we did nothing?”  
  
There are tears of frustration in Bruce's eyes now and Tony takes that as a sign that he can move in. He gently grips Bruce's forearms.  
  
“Let's sit down,” he suggests, jerking his head towards the nearby couch.  
  
After staring at Tony for a moment, eyes mercurially shifting from green to brown, Bruce nods. He lets Tony guide him over and down, body stiff and still shaking with restraint.  
  
Wrapping an arm around Bruce's shoulders, Tony squeezes, “Alright, you've gotta breathe, ok?”  
  
Nodding again, Bruce tries to take a deep breath. It comes out with a shaky groan and he curls in on himself slightly, fists still clenched tight.  
  
Licking his lips, Tony thinks about grounding, about lightning, and electricity, about the way he feels when the entire world is spinning apart around him and all he needs is something solid to cling to until gravity remembers it's a law and not a polite suggestion. He's tactile, touch has always served him when words failed. So Tony touches. He pulls Bruce a little closer and lays a hand over a fist, thumb running back and forth, soothing.  
  
“Just keep breathing,” he murmurs lowly.  
  
The tension in Bruce's body takes a long time to dissipate. He lets it go in bits and pieces, a fist unclenching, shoulders dropping, one leg and then the other falling to the side, relaxed, until finally, a solid forty-five minutes later he's sagging against Tony like he was a few weeks ago out on the streets. Like if it weren't for Tony he'd just fall to the floor in an awkward human puddle.  
  
Bruce is folded in half, face pressed into the crook of Tony's arm, his own arm draped over Tony's leg, hand lightly gripping Tony's knee. He's breathing slow and even, so Tony finally lets out his own tiny sigh of relief.  
  
“Better?”  
  
“Yeah,” Bruce mutters.  
  
Tony doesn't push him to move though. For all that this was about calming Bruce down, Tony is always hungry for touch – affection. With a self deprecating smirk, he thinks to himself that there's always a selfish element to everything he does. It's just the kind of man he is.  
  
So, he adjusts them, leaning back against the arm rest and pulling Bruce against his chest, holding him a little tighter now. Bruce's arms, after a moment of hesitation, wrap around his middle. Bruce's face is pressed against Tony's neck, breath soft against Tony's collarbone. Tony brings a hand up to Bruce's hair, massaging his scalp with sure fingers.  
  
When Bruce burrows against him a little more solidly, Tony thinks he's not the only one who's been touch starved in his life. It's good to just lie here for a while, the contact as sweet as water in the desert.  
  
“Sir,” JARVIS interrupts, volume lower than usual, like he's trying not to be too obtrusive, “Mr. Rogers is at the ground floor boarding the elevator.”  
  
“Thanks, JARVIS.”  
  
“Certainly, sir.”  
  
Tony gives Bruce one final squeeze, sitting them both up and pulling back to try and assess how Bruce is feeling. Bruce can't quite meet Tony's eyes though. He gives a wavering smile of thanks but his gaze stays firmly on the floor.  
  
“I'm gonna go,” Bruce says at length, voice almost forcefully casual, “Thanks, Tony.”  
  
He rises to leave and Tony watches him with sharp eyes.  
  
“Bruce.”  
  
The other man half turns.  
  
“Any time, ok? I mean that.”  
  
Bruce's gaze finally meets Tony's. The smile that spreads across his face this time is warm and steady.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
He leaves then, turning the corner just as Steve walks into the room.  
  
“Was that Bruce?”  
  
“Yeah,” Tony nods, bouncing up to his feet.  
  
“I'd like to say hello...” Steve gestures.  
  
“Uh, no,” Tony comes around the couch and leads Steve by the elbow to a balcony, plopping down in a chair once the sliding door is shut behind them.  
  
“He's having a bad day, and he needs some space,” Tony rushes out before Steve can ask a thousand annoying questions.  
  
Steve blinks and then peers inside, tucking his hands in his pockets.  
  
“Is he alright?  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony waves a hand, “he'll be fine. Now, what can I help you with?”


	3. Degrees of Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should probably feel weird but Tony's never hesitated to willfully ignore anything resembling social propriety when it suited him.

Bruce comes to him this time, sweaty in gym clothes, with a split lip and the beginnings of a black eye.  
  
He crowds right into Tony's space and Tony backs up against the table, bracing himself for...he's not even sure what. Bruce stops though, not quite pressed against him, breath heaving out of his body as he desperately tries to calm down.  
  
Licking his lips, Tony stares at the mop of dark hair inches away from his face, turning his head slightly to try and look Bruce in the eye.  
  
“Hey,” he says evenly, “what happened?”  
  
Swallowing a few times, Bruce reaches out, fingers uncurling from white knuckled fists until he's gripping Tony's hips.  
  
“Sparring,” Bruce manages after a minute.  
  
Nodding, Tony pulls Bruce a little closer, sliding a hand up beneath the sweat soaked undershirt to palm at Bruce's shoulder blade.  
  
“Whose brilliant idea was that?” Tony teases.  
  
“Clint's.”  
  
Tony snorts, “Yeah, that sounds like Clint. So...he landed a hit, you started to get all Jolly Green on him?”  
  
“I...” Bruce presses in closer, “left...before...”  
  
“Good,” Tony reassures him, “You did good.”  
  
Bruce shakes his head, gripping Tony's hips a little too tightly.  
  
“Breathe, remember? Just breathe,” Tony coaxes.  
  
Forced, steady breaths beat out against Tony's chest. Bruce's shoulders are hunched, like if he can make himself small enough everything will be alright.  
  
Nat picks exactly that moment to slip in, her eyebrows going up as soon as she spots them. Tony raises his other hand (the one not under Bruce's shirt), giving her the finger before gripping the back of Bruce's neck. She smirks and nods, exiting just as quietly as she'd come. Tony's a little annoyed that JARVIS didn't give him a little more warning but then he considers that Nat possibly hacked his system – again – and that he needs to up security. She shuts the door on the lab at least and Tony sees the blinking light indicating that it's been locked – she's definitely been hacking the system again. Probably just to annoy him.  
  
His hand slides up to Bruce's sweat damp hair. Bruce presses in that final inch and they're flush against one another. It should probably feel weird but Tony's never hesitated to willfully ignore anything resembling social propriety when it suited him.  
  
He strokes Bruce's hair and pretends like this is all completely normal.


	4. Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We've crossed a line here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where this fic officially crosses the line into utter nonsense. I don't know if it's crack, perhaps crack cut with sugar? ;)
> 
> In my headcanon, Nat and Sam both speak Arabic and Farsi.

Tony's entire upper body is inside a chassis, he's covered in grease and he's almost...got...the piece...he wants...in place...  
  
Something with a pointed end – not sharp exactly, just pointed – jabs him solidly in his left butt cheek. He startles violently, cursing up a storm as he extricates himself, leaving grease smears on his face as he pushes his hair back.  
  
“What the hell?” he snaps.  
  
Bruce is laughing, clutching his stomach as he tosses the pen at Tony's feet.  
  
And Tony _wants_ to be pissed off, he _really_ does, but Bruce almost never laughs. It's kind of a sight to behold.  
  
“Did you come in here just to assault me, or did you actually want something?”  
  
The laughter fades, easy and slow, but Bruce's shrug aims for nonchalant and misses the mark by a mile.  
  
“I wanted to talk to you about something.”  
  
“Oh, God,” Tony's eyes go wide with panic, “what'd I do now?”  
  
Shaking his head, Bruce smiles, “Nothing, Tony. Nothing bad, anyway.”  
  
“That doesn't entirely reassure me, you realize that, right?” Tony scoffs, folding his arms.  
  
Looking nervous, Bruce shrugs again and, in a moment of what Tony will later claim is temporary insanity, he launches himself at Bruce, rubbing his greasy head against Bruce's face, smearing the grease from his body onto Bruce's jacket and button down shirt. Bruce makes what Tony will later call a 'manly noise of indignation' but is actually probably closer to a shriek. They battle against each other, Tony trying to press in closer, Bruce struggling to push him away  
  
When Tony pulls away with a manic grin Bruce seems to be momentarily paralyzed, so Tony starts inching back slowly, giggling nervously.  
  
“I am going to kill you,” Bruce intones through a grimacing smile.  
  
“Shit,” Tony laughs, darting around a table and running out of the lab, Bruce hot on his heels.  
  
They streak through the common area where it seems like everyone has decided to congregate without Tony realizing it.  
  
“Um...” Steve frowns.  
  
“Guys?” Sam questions as they circle around a couch and Tony leaps over a table.  
  
“I'm gonna kill him,” Bruce says casually, slightly out of breath.  
  
“Ok,” Sam shrugs, “but we're not helping you with the body.”  
  
“I might help him with the body,” Natasha smirks, “for the right price.”  
  
“I'm definitely not cleaning up the mess,” Steve shakes his head, ducking to the side as Tony nearly crashes into his chair.  
  
“Shit, shit...shit!” Tony pants, still giggling a little.  
  
“Was there a science mishap? Did you break the science?” Clint chuckles.  
  
“Stop trying to make jokes, man, you suck at it,” Sam shakes his head.  
  
“Hey, I'm funny!”  
  
“Not really,” Tony snorts breathlessly.  
  
So Clint trips him.  
  
Tony goes down hard, curling onto his side, and Bruce hurls himself on top of Tony punching him jokingly in the shoulder repeatedly until he runs out of steam. Which leaves him straddling Tony sideways while everyone else watches in amusement.  
  
“He seems pretty alive still,” Natasha grins, “Was that it?”  
  
“I admittedly didn't think this through very far,” Bruce blinks, still trying to catch his breath.  
  
“How far did you think it through?” Clint prods.  
  
“I actually didn't think I was going to catch him at all,” Bruce admits, looking legitimately at a loss, “So not very far.”  
  
Glancing at Natasha, Clint nods. They spring to their feet, grabbing Tony's legs.  
  
“Get his arms!” Clint orders.  
  
“No! Hey! What is this? Mutiny!” Tony struggles.  
  
Bruce grabs an arm and Steve, hesitating only a moment, finally gets up to grab the other.  
  
“What are we doing?” Steve asks, seeming both giddy and also slightly panicked by the sudden turn of events. Tony, through his indignation and mild anxiety, figures Steve's never been involved in any legitimate rough housing before and feels momentarily bad for the guy. Momentarily.  
  
“Follow me!” Natasha smirks, backing up.  
  
“Put me down!” Tony squirms.  
  
“Nope!” Sam laughs, holding doors open when Nat jerks her head in the direction she wants them to go.  
  
Tony goes dead weight and they grunt (except Steve, the perfect bastard) at the sudden shift but keep going. Tony takes the time to try and assess the direction they've taken and realizes with a sudden dawning horror where they're headed.  
  
“No, no, no! Unacceptable! Don't you dare!”  
  
Nat says something to Sam in a language Tony doesn't entirely recognize. Farsi maybe? How many languages did she speak? Sam ducks into another room and jogs to join back up with them seconds later but Tony can't see what he's procured, so he starts struggling again, violently twisting his body and only managing to earn himself a swift kick in the ass from Nat.  
  
“In my defense, I was only retaliating to Bruce's unwarranted assault on my undefended ass cheek.”  
  
“Right,” Steve scoffs.  
  
“I was! Bruce, come on!”  
  
“In my defense,” Bruce grins, face upside down from Tony's vantage point, “that assault was payback for all the crap you've done to me.”  
  
Nat says something else to Sam (maybe it's Arabic? Tony makes a mental note through the haze of giddy anxiety to find out) who runs ahead.  
  
“I am begging you,” Tony pleads, “not to get grease in the hot tub. I spent a month modifying that thing.”  
  
“You should have thought of that before,” Nat shrugs, hefting his leg to get a better grip.  
  
“How could I have conceivably known this would be a potential consequence to my actions, that's not even remotely reasonable!”  
  
“Going forward,” Nat warns, laughter at the edges of her grim tone, “You should probably just assume the worst in terms of potential consequences.”  
  
The hot tub is recessed into the floor, tile and marble with chrome fixtures. There are stream jets everywhere, temperature controls that are specific down to a fraction of a degree, with bubble jets in the floor of the tub. There are lights built in to the hot tub itself with different colored LEDs to properly set the mood. There's a sauna and changing stall off to one side and an infinity pool off to the other. Tony really loves to use this room – when he's _clean_.    
  
Tony groans melodramatically when he sees Sam dumping an entire bottle of soap into the water.  
  
“We can't toss him in...” Steve edges, eying the space.  
  
“Yes! Thank you! Four and a half foot depth, combined with my weight and the velocity of the drop would almost assuredly lead to injury...”  
  
It's a split second glance between Nat and Bruce that finds Tony being bodily dragged into the water. It's only had a minute to heat up, so it's lukewarm, ideal bath temperature, but Tony can't enjoy that because he's being wrestled down and dunked.  
  
He doesn't mean to fight so hard. He catches Natasha in the chest and Bruce in the gut, shoving himself to the far side when they let him go, leaving him breathing hard, eyes clenched tightly shut. He's not here, though, he's there. He's thousands of miles away being held under water in a cave, heart beating to death in his chest.  
  
Vaguely, Tony's aware of words, soft and hushed, around him. “File”, “torture”, “didn't think...”, fragments of sentences penetrate the haze as he shakes. Then a voice, to his left, solid and warm in his ear.  
  
“Tony...”  
  
“I'm ok,” he chokes out, voice hoarse and too fast.  
  
Bruce's arm slides around his shoulders and Tony leans into him slightly, eyes slitting open. Natasha's expression is carefully blank which means she's worried and feeling guilty (and when did he learn to decipher her expressions anyway?). Steve looks like he just kicked a whole bag full of puppies. Sam looks neutral...no...ready to assist. His own shit put tidily away so he can be of the most benefit to those around him. Clint looks...well, like he's a little annoyed. Which probably translates to “sorry”. Tony glances to the side at Bruce. Bruce just smiles at him, a little guilty, a little sad, with that faint undercurrent of anger Tony's always aware of now.  
  
“I'm ok,” he repeats, voice steadier, “you've ruined the hot tub and I hate you all.”  
  
Bruce huffs out a chuckle and Tony half-heartedly splashes him. Mischief trickling back into her gaze, Natasha strips off her blouse and slacks, leaving herself only in a modest black bra and panties.  
  
“It is a nice hot tub,” she smirks, lounging back and shrugging her eyebrows at Tony.  
  
Clint immediately starts tugging at the laces of his boots, grinning at her widely.  
  
“If this turns into an orgy...”  
  
“Shut up, Clint,” Nat laughs.  
  
“I'm just saying, I wouldn't argue.”  
  
“Of course you wouldn't,” Bruce chuckles, rolling his eyes.  
  
But everyone seems to be on board with a group hot tub session, because Sam and Steve share a meaningful look before stripping down to their boxers and Bruce wrestles off his own wet clothing.  
  
Eying them all in momentary disbelief, Tony shakes his head and begins peeling his own clothes off.  
  
“You realize,” he says with a smile that's almost believable, “that we're effectively taking a bubble bath together.”  
  
“You want me to scrub your back?” Steve snorts, mouth quirking up on one side.  
  
“I do, actually, but we're sadly lacking in loofahs.”  
  
Bruce is pressed arm to arm, thigh to thigh with him and Tony relaxes a little more.  
  
“Hey, JARVIS, turn on the jets.”  
  
“Um...” Sam chuckles as bubbles begin to overwhelm them.  
  
Clint splashes a wave of bubbles towards Nat, which turns quickly into a full out splash fight. Steve seems to be taking the adult moral high ground until he catches a face full and then he's tackling someone and it all just devolves from there.  
  
Tony is aware that at least he and Bruce are way too damn old for this kind of nonsense, because for all that Steve was on ice for seventy something years, he's still only really in his early thirties.  
  
But the water has a soothing flowery smell from the soap, and it's getting hot, and all these insane people are maybe his friends.  
  
Also, Tony has never believed in acting his age.  
  
He launches himself on top of the nearest body which sadly turns out to be Steve who lifts him completely out of the water, right over his shoulder, before rudely dropping him back down.  
  
And Tony is ok. He surfaces, splashes, kicks, laughs. He dunks Natasha which is a thousand times more dangerous than dunking anyone else but she only splashes him in the face a few times in revenge.  
  
They settle after a while, water hot, jets beating against their skin, room quiet until Tony says something about music and JARVIS turns on some Black Sabbath until Sam mutters an emphatic “no” and Steve suggests Marvin Gaye.  
  
Tony settles, magnanimously, on a solid rotation of classic Motown.  
  
Apparently, Tony thinks, bubble bath hot tubs are the aquatic equivalent of pillow forts. Any anxiety from earlier is gone and he feels his head drift to the side until it connects with Bruce's shoulder.  
  
“You can't fall asleep in the hot tub, Tony,” Bruce chides, nudging him gently.  
  
“You wouldn't let me drown.”  
  
“I wouldn't, but I also don't feel like dragging you out when you go under. You're heavy.”  
  
Incensed, Tony lifts his head, “I am not heavy. I'm _solid_.”  
  
“And I'm a scientist,” Bruce counters, “not a lifeguard.”  
  
“Don't worry,” Nat mutters, “I'll save you.”  
  
“And how much torment will I suffer afterward?”  
  
Smirking, Nat slits open an eye, “Only a lot.”  
  
“You're a cruel, wicked woman and I love that about you,” Tony intones.  
  
Shrugging a shoulder, Nat closes her eyes again, “I know.”  
  
“We probably should get out,” Steve yawns.  
  
“Probably,” Sam agrees.  
  
None of them make to move for another fifteen minutes. Natasha's left foot is in Clint's lap where he's absently squeezing it in some sleepy attempt at a foot massage. Sam is completely between Steve's legs, using him like a human lawn chair, and Steve's arms are draped loosely around Sam's waist. Bruce and Tony are side by side. It's good. It's better than good, it's comfortable.  
  
Groaning softly, Tony rubs his pruny fingers together and sits up.  
  
“Ok. Ok, that's...JARVIS, jets off, music off, lights up...everybody out of the pool. Adult swim, kids.”  
  
Everyone else grumbles at him but they rise, no matter how reluctantly, and begin gathering up their soggy clothing.  
  
“There are towels...” Tony scrubs his face, “in the cabinet there. Just put your clothes in the laundry chute. Minus belts and shoes.”  
  
“Shoot,” Steve mutters, holding up his soggy phone.  
  
In all the splash fighting everyone's clothes had gotten soaked, even those who'd had sense to get undressed before getting in the hot tub. Sam chuckles as he holds up his own damp phone.  
  
“Stick it in a bowl of rice for twenty four hours, it'll probably be fine,” Tony waves them off.  
  
Natasha pauses, towel wrapped halfway around her body, and Steve raises an eyebrow at her.  
  
“What?” he prods.  
  
“I left my phone on the couch.”  
  
“...so?” Sam prods.  
  
Tony smirks, “Relax, Natasha, the only people who might have gotten in without me knowing about it are Pepper and Rhodey. They're both too polite to go poking around in your stuff. Which is stupid of them, I totally would have changed your ringtones to bad pop songs from the 90s.”  
  
Natasha smiles, an edge of self consciousness there, but Sam winces, “Oh, man...that's cruel and unusual. Let bad 90s pop die.”  
  
“It's like disco, Sammy, it'll never die. It'll just become the auditory equivalent of a bad joke in every film they make about the 90s.”  
  
“Hey, I wasn't even old enough to shave for most of the 90s. They can't go making bad movies about it until I'm at least fifty.”  
  
“I remember the 70s,” Tony shoots back, rubbing at his hair, “how do you think _I_ feel?”  
  
“Old,” Bruce whips out with an amused smirk, “like me.”  
  
Sam wraps a towel around his hips, shoving his clothes down the chute and turns before shutting his eyes.  
  
“Damn.”  
  
“What?” Steve smirks, looking like he's already guessed what the problem is.  
  
“I don't have a change of clothes,” Sam chuckles.  
  
“You can borrow something of mine. It'll probably be a little baggy...”  
  
“Yeah, you got muscles, we know, just rub it in, man, go ahead...”  
  
“I wasn't...” Steve glances away, turning red.  
  
“Aw...” Sam pokes at Steve's cheeks, “you embarrassed?”  
  
“Lay off, Sam, I didn't mean it like that.”  
  
“Boys, boys... **go**. _Leave_ ,” Tony shoos them out.  
  
The sound of their banter trails down the hallway. Natasha and Clint slip out, Nat giving Tony and Bruce a lingering, calculating look which makes Tony stick out his tongue. She actually laughs a little, which absolutely does not make Tony love her even a tiny bit.  
  
Then it's just him and Bruce, doing something resembling adult behavior as they survey the damage.  
  
“I think I have robots for this. JARVIS, I have robots for this, don't I?”  
  
“I'll send in the clean up crew, sir,” JARVIS replies, sounding maybe a little amused, “though you may have to call in a professional for the hot tub.”  
  
“I was worried about that,” Tony mumbles, “Thanks, JARVIS.”  
  
“You're welcome, sir. Might I suggest you and Dr. Banner find some dry clothing?”  
  
“Good idea, JARVIS,” Bruce chuckles, “Thanks.”  
  
“Of course, sir.”  
  
They leave, padding down the hallway barefoot, towels wrapped around them. Bruce's room comes up all too quickly and Bruce is nearly set to go inside when they hear an explosively loud groan come from the room across the hall.  
  
Looking at each other they burst out laughing, muffling it with hands and fluffy towels.  
  
“You wanna crash with me for a while?” Tony grins.  
  
“Please?” Bruce winces, “I definitely don't want to listen to that all night.”  
  
“Remind me to add more soundproofing. Apparently, I should've modified my calculations for superhumans.”  
  
Chuckling, Bruce ducks into his room for some clothes, gesturing for Tony to lead the way once he comes back out in the hall.  
  
“I think you're still kind of greasy,” Bruce notes, swiping his index finger down Tony's arm and rubbing it critically against his thumb.  
  
Tony peers at him, “I think you are too.”  
  
Making a face, Bruce glares at him faintly, but it's amused, so Tony just grins in response.  
  
In Tony's suite everything is ultra modern and the only thing that seems remotely out of place is a model of a classic car next to a few pictures on the dresser. It was a gift from Rhodey some years ago and Tony cherishes it probably more than anyone should ever cherish a _thing_. He guides Bruce towards the bathroom, dropping his towel and underwear without a thought. He's never been self conscious which is probably not his best quality because it leads him to awkward moments like this where he turns around and finds Bruce staring at his naked body.  
  
“Not that I want you to change,” Bruce blushes faintly, tearing his eyes away, “but God, Tony, could you be just a little shy?”  
  
“We're scientists. We don't have time for that kind of shit,” Tony scoffs.  
  
“ _You_ don't,” Bruce shoots back.  
  
“Admittedly, I don't have time for most things, I am a busy, busy man...”  
  
“Who just spent the better part of an hour in a hot tub taking a bubble bath with The Avengers.”  
  
Tony grimaces, grabbing up his electric razor. It had been a few days since he'd shaved...or at least that's what his stubbled cheek was telling him, “God, it sounds like bad fanfiction. Stop talking.”  
  
“I never took you for the type to read fanfiction.”  
  
“We play tabletop games, Bruce. We argue the merits of Star Wars over Star Trek. We are giant, _giant_ nerds. Huge, _massive_ geeks. MIT was rife with fan magazines when I went there.”  
  
“That's how you really spent your late nights, isn't it? Curled up with some Star Trek fan magazine?”  
  
“Don't mock me,” Tony growls, jabbing a menacing finger at him.  
  
He turns on the razor and begins trimming up his goatee, aware that Bruce is watching him quietly.  
  
“You want to uh...” Tony gestures at Bruce's stubble.  
  
Wincing, Bruce shakes his head, “Last time I used an electric razor I hurt myself. It wasn't pretty.”  
  
Tony pauses to stare at him and Bruce crosses his arms.  
  
“If I can't mock you, then you can't judge me.”  
  
“Who's judging?” Tony back peddles, “I mean...I just... _how_? How did you hurt yourself with...?”  
  
Tony stares at the electric razor in his hand.  
  
“If I knew,” Bruce shrugs, “I would tell you.”  
  
Shaking his head Tony resumes shaving his own face.  
  
After a minute where Bruce keeps watching him (chewing his lip, still clutching his towel close) Tony finishes and glances to the side, “Do you want me to um...do it for you?”  
  
Bruce licks his lips and shrugs, leaning back against the bathroom counter. When Tony edges in, Bruce tilts his face up, staring at the ceiling. He doesn't shut his eyes the entire time, letting Tony manipulate him into the right position, holding absolutely still.  
  
Tony pauses when he's finished, running a thumb over Bruce's now smooth jaw line. He glances down and then leans against the counter next to him, flipping the razor off.  
  
“We've crossed a line here.”  
  
“I think we crossed a line a while ago,” Bruce says softly, glancing down at Tony's naked body, but probably thinking about some moment further back than even this. Maybe the first time Tony reached out to the monster to get at the man underneath. Maybe the first time Tony acknowledged the monster at all.  
  
“Well,” Tony smirks, “Might as well keep going then. How about a shower?”  
  
Huffing out a sad laugh, Bruce shakes his head but says, “Sure.”  
  
Tony flips on the water and watches as Bruce finally drops his own towel, peeling his still damp underwear off. Bruce is lean and apparently a little self conscious as he flushes under Tony's scrutiny.  
  
Bruce gestures to the shower and Tony tests the water without looking away, nodding when he feels it reach the ideal temperature. It's a multi-drectional shower but he's only turned on the overhead tap. He steps underneath, letting it pour down over him, and waits. He only twitches faintly, barely startling at all, when he feels Bruce's hands smooth from his lower back around to grip his waist. Tony doesn't move, doesn't breathe – waits until Bruce edges in closer, until they're pressed flush against each other, front to back. Bruce's hands slide up around him, one stopping just shy of the arc reactor and the other resting on his stomach. Then Bruce presses his face to Tony's shoulder and Tony just sags against him a little. After a few minutes there's a soft, hesitant kiss to the top of his shoulder blade and then Bruce pulls back, reaching for the shampoo. Tony turns, tries to reach for it, but Bruce shakes his head, setting the bottle aside and reaching for Tony's hair. Tony ducks his head in understanding, shutting his eyes as Bruce scrubs at his scalp. He acquiesces to every touch, when he's pushed under the spray, the suds trailing down his face and body and limbs, until he's pulled close again, soap worked over his skin...  
  
He takes some of the soap, returns the favor, soapy hands trailing over each others skin. Tony presses his cheek to Bruce's, breathes, eyes shut.  
  
It's not sexual though, it's not erotic. Sensual? Definitely. Intimate? Terrifyingly so. For all that this is some of the most intense physical intimacy Tony's ever participated in, he's not hard. He's half tempted to force it, to _try_ , but some reasonable part of his brain holds him back. Because that's not actually what he wants right now. He doesn't, for once, want sex. He just wants to touch and enjoy being touched in return. It is weird and foreign and everything he desperately needs.  
  
Once they're clean and all the suds have swirled away down the drain, Tony feels like his fingers are never going to de-prune, so he flicks the shower off and grabs a towel, crowding Bruce against a wall as he dries him off. He chuckles at the mess of Bruce's hair, running his fingers through it a few times until he looks less like a half drowned dog.  
  
They get dressed and Bruce seems like he's ready to slip away when Tony grabs him around the waist from behind, biting his shoulder playfully.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“Let's have a sleep over.”  
  
“What?” Bruce snaps, glancing over his shoulder incredulously, “you just bit me!”  
  
“Not _hard_.”  
  
“ _Tony_.”  
  
“Do you really want to listen to Steve and Sam going at it all night?” Tony reminds him.  
  
“Depends,” Bruce shoots back, “Are you actually going to let me sleep, or is this going to end with you keeping me up until 4 am talking about whatever you were doing in that chassis earlier?”  
  
Tony pulls back, affronted, “I would never deny you your beauty sleep, Bruce, you need it too much.”  
  
Jaw dropping in amused shock, Bruce crowds Tony back towards the bed, “You...”  
  
“Don't say anything you'll regret in the morning,” Tony advises.  
  
“Incredible asshole.”  
  
“Like that.”  
  
“Go to hell.”  
  
Shaking his head, Tony bounces down onto the mattress.  
  
“Come on. We can cuddle.”  
  
That makes Bruce pause and lick his lips. Tony drags the covers down. It only takes a small tug on the hem of Bruce's shirt to get him to follow.  
  
They slide into bed. Tony is sprawled out but Bruce is sitting up against the headboard, hands in his lap, looking kind of like he maybe wants to throw up a little. Tony tilts his head back, twisting himself into a ridiculous position to get a better look at Bruce's face.  
  
“Really?” Tony smirks, “we just finished a naked grope session in the shower and completely dressed in bed is what's freaking you out?”  
  
“I just um...”  
  
“We're just going to sleep, Bruce. Go to _sleep_.”  
  
“We need to talk,” Bruce rushes out, “I wanted to talk to you before, remember?”  
  
Sitting up, Tony shifts back until he's sitting next to Bruce against the headboard, “Right. Yes. Yeah. No, I remember that.”  
  
Swallowing thickly, Bruce takes a deep breath, “I don't know what the hell's going on.”  
  
Blinking, Tony waits for him to elaborate, but Bruce just stares at the covers.  
  
“Wow. Um...good talk?”  
  
“Tony,” Bruce grumbles in annoyance.  
  
“Sorry, uh...can you...explain that a little? Maybe some details? A diagram or something?”  
  
Turning to face Tony more fully but not really looking him in the eye, Bruce heaves out a sigh.  
  
“What's been happening between us...what you said before...” Bruce's eyes finally rise up, sucking Tony's breath out of his lungs, “you were right, we've crossed a line. I've...no one's ever...the way you touch me is um...”  
  
“Overwhelming? Intense? Good? Bad?”  
  
“Intense,” Bruce nods, swallowing again, “Calming. Good.”  
  
“So, what is there to talk about?” Tony frowns in confusion.  
  
“The intense. The fact that...no one's been able to calm me down the way you do. Which is insane because you're one of the most agitating people I've ever met,” Bruce's gaze drops again, “and I'm not sure what you're getting out of this. Why you're doing it.”  
  
“Feels good,” Tony shrugs.  
  
“...what, that's it? It _feels good_?”  
  
Squinting one eye shut and quirking his head, Tony nods, “You're kind of overestimating my thought process in regards to everyday human interactions. I don't tend to think beyond my surface feelings in most situations. Just causes headaches.”  
  
“You are honestly unbelievable.”  
  
“I get that a lot. I really like it when you touch me, Bruce. Does it have to be deeper than that?”  
  
Looking uncertain and maybe a little disappointed, Bruce finally shakes his head.  
  
“I guess not.”  
  
“Ok, good,” Tony grins, and hauls Bruce against him.  
  
After a moment of just slumping against him, Bruce finally moves in, wrapping his arms around Tony's torso.  
  
Tony is not dense.  
  
Ok, he's kind of emotionally dense, but not _completely_. He knows something is wrong with Bruce, he can tell something's bothering him, but asking seems like a little too much to deal with when the bed is comfortable and the room is quiet and Bruce is warm and solid against him.  
  
The lights dim as their breathing evens out, until the room is dark, and soft ambient noise comes up over the comm.  
  
“Ok...” Bruce murmurs sleepily, “I'm officially requesting a room upgrade.”  
  
“Sure,” Tony yawns, “my door's always open.”  
  
“Not exactly...”  
  
“I know what you meant.”  
  
Tony can feel Bruce swallowing, then shift closer, lips pressing against Tony's jaw, and...  
  
Oh.  
  
 _Shit_.  
  
He doesn't hold his breath or stiffen up or really do anything but lay there like a rag doll until Bruce settles against him again.  
  
This, this was why Tony was not allowed to have nice things.  
  
That was his last thought before falling asleep.  
  
Tony wakes up because the lights have come up by about 53% and there's the sound of shoes thudding into the closet. His head is resting on Bruce's stomach and he's wrapped around the other man kind of like a really large, heat seeking boa constrictor, only with less constricting. He opens his eyes just as she comes down the small hallway into the bedroom proper and smiles when she quirks her head in confusion and then amusement.  
  
“Hey, Pep,” he rumbles.  
  
“Hi?”  
  
“Nap time,” he yawns, stretching and extricating himself from Bruce's arms.  
  
Which has the unfortunate side effect of waking up Bruce. Bruce groans and shifts, seeking out Tony's warmth, nuzzling in closer which really makes Pepper grin – God, Tony loves her. Bruce presses his face into Tony's shoulder and picks the grit out of one eye before peering blearily around the room – which is when he sits up straight as arrow and proceeds to stare at Pepper like a deer caught in the headlights.  
  
Pepper, for her part, just wiggles her fingers at him, smirking and shaking faintly with laughter.  
  
“Um...I uh...”  
  
Bruce gets up and walks out.  
  
“Hey... _hey_!” Tony calls after him.  
  
Pepper turns, chuckling, “Bruce?”  
  
“Sorry!” Bruce calls back.  
  
“Wow,” Tony laughs, “whenever you're telling me I'm socially inept? I just want you to remember what happened just now.”  
  
“What _did_ just happen?” she laughs, glancing back down the hall where Bruce has disappeared.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Tony shakes his head, “Why don't you get ready for bed first?”  
  
“Oh, God,” Pepper blinks, smiling nervously, “Is it bad?”  
  
“I don't think so,” Tony frowns and peers up at her sidelong, “But I've been wrong about this kind of thing before, so...”  
  
“I need P.J.s and a cup of tea?” she guesses.  
  
“I'll go make the tea.”  
  
“Chamomile, please.”  
  
Tony nods, rolling out of bed and deciding not to think about anything, at all, except maybe the task at hand. It's not that he has problems with anxiety, it's just that anxiety doesn't seem to understand how unwelcome it is in every aspect of his life.  
  
So, instead of thinking, Tony makes them both tea. It's a soothing process anyway, one that reminds him of Jarvis and those memories are bittersweet but he likes them regardless. When he comes back, tea in hand, Pepper is sitting on the bed with her legs drawn up, chin propped on her knee, one hand smoothing over the probably long gone warmth that Bruce and Tony's bodies had left behind. She looks considering, though, and not upset, so Tony just sets her tea on the nightstand before sitting down in front of her.  
  
She smiles at him, and it's warm, and full of all the love he knows is reflected back in his own smile.  
  
Grabbing her mug, Pepper sips and sighs. It's the way she likes it, because he's made notes for himself so he won't forget. He thinks maybe that's not as good as _actually_ remembering but he knows he's never going to be _that_ kind of boyfriend or husband. So, he makes do, and Pepper seems ok with it. At least most of the time.  
  
He explains, as best as he's able, what's been going on for the last two months. Pepper listens and sips her tea, and picks at the fuzz on her flannel pajama bottoms. Tony's relieved that she's not angry, but then, she's Pepper and she has the patience of a saint most days.  
  
The problem is, talking to her makes him remember the moment before he fell asleep, when Bruce kissed his jaw.  
  
Which means he finishes talking, by saying, “I think Bruce and I should have sex.”  
  
Instead of saying something, maybe, you know, _reasonable_. Or at least _less insane_.  
  
Pepper blinks in surprise, leaning back against the headboard.  
  
“Are you in love with him?”  
  
“I'm not in love with Bruce,” he snorts, “he's just a friend.”  
  
“Like Rhodey,” Pepper suggests, but Tony shakes his head.  
  
“No, not like Rhodey,” Tony smirks, a little sadness and a lot of self deprecation written across his features, “Rhodey...”  
  
He sighs heavily, feeling like he might as well come clean. It's been a night for confessions anyway.  
  
“I was in love with Rhodey for a while. But he's never felt the same way.”  
  
Quirking her head, Pepper props her chin on her fist, “How do you know?”  
  
“Because I kissed him and he shot me down. Gently. As gently as you can possibly rip someone's heart out of their chest...” he glances down at the arc reactor, “bad metaphor.”  
  
Brow furrowed, Pepper leans forward, “So you're telling me you want to have sex with Bruce but you're just friends?”  
  
“...yeah, pretty much,” he shrugs.  
  
“You're kind of ridiculous, Tony,” she points out, mouth quirking up at one corner.  
  
“It's part of my charm. Also, friends with benefits is a real thing, it has a Wikipedia article and everything.”  
  
“So how does Bruce feel?”  
  
Tony pauses, biting his lip and Pepper scoffs.  
  
“Oh, God...you haven't even _asked him_ , have you?”  
  
“Well, look, in my defense this all happened kind of organically, one thing leading into another, but I didn't want it to escalate any further without us talking about it. I think that makes me a good boyfriend.”  
  
Gaze sliding over his features fondly, Pepper nods, “It's good we're talking about it, Tony.”  
  
“I think...” Tony pauses again, turning his face away, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a brief grimace, before his eyes flick back to her, “I think he wants to have sex with me. But I'm kind of a package deal.”  
  
Eyebrows rising up towards her hairline, Pepper smirks, “Really?”  
  
“Am I not?” Tony blinks, an edge of panic settling in his gut.  
  
“We're our own people, Tony, I don't have to do everything you do, or want everything you want.”  
  
“Um...”  
  
“I'm saying if you and Bruce have sex, it's up to the two of you, and...I don't mind. I'm not going to call it a 'blessing' but I don't mind,” she shrugs delicately.  
  
“Wait...” Tony holds up a hand, “I'm confused.”  
  
“I like Bruce...but I think this is something you might need to keep for yourself,” she bites her lip with a mischievous look in her eyes, “and it'll give me a little break from your insatiable needs.”  
  
“But you're ok with...”  
  
Eyes drifting past him to the far wall, Pepper considers it for a moment and then nods, “It doesn't bother me. Maybe if it was someone else it might but...”  
  
“It might not go there,” Tony says suddenly, not sure why he feels so uncertain now.  
  
“Or it might,” she smiles.  
  
Tony sets his mug down and slides up next to her, reaching up to cup her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek.  
  
“How do _you_ feel about it, Tony? Do you really want to sleep with him or are you just doing this because you think _he_ needs it?”  
  
“You could teach Clint a thing or two about hitting the mark,” Tony grumbles.  
  
Chuckling, Pepper nods, turning her face to kiss his palm.  
  
Tony's lips purse and twitch to the left. He shrugs.  
  
“I like whatever's happening. I want to see where it goes.”  
  
Reaching up to stroke his cheek, Pepper says, “Then follow the yellow brick road.”  
  
Groaning loudly, Tony's head falls back. He feels Pepper shaking with restrained laughter.  
  
“No...don't start making the vaguely veiled Wizard of Oz gay references, ok? Please. I'm begging you.”  
  
“Speaking of gay,” she drawls, poking him in the stomach, “when were you planning on telling me you're bisexual?”  
  
Tony's gaze snaps back to hers and he blinks.  
  
“You didn't _know_? How did you **not** _know_? You know more about me than I do, and _I'm_ **me**!”  
  
Laughing, Pepper shakes her head, trying to fend him off as he tickles her sides.  
  
“You didn't exactly drop any clues, Tony! The womanizer image was pretty convincing and...ah! No! Stop! Stop tickling!”  
  
Tony hauls her into his lap, kissing her once.  
  
“I can't believe you didn't know,” he says once more, still shocked.  
  
“As much as this might surprise you, sometimes you do actually need to tell people things.”  
  
“Ha, funny, look, I didn't think it was some big secret. I haven't publicly dated any guys because I haven't met many I _wanted_ to but at MIT I slept my way through anyone who wasn't legally off limits.”  
  
“Didn't you start at MIT before you were 18?”  
  
“Yep,” he grins.  
  
“So, legally off limits for whom?”  
  
“As unscrupulous as I am, Pep, I draw the line at getting other people sent to jail. Statutory was and is a crime, no matter how very willing I would have been to sleep with Professor Lee. God, Professor Lee. If I had a time machine I would go back just to have one night with Professor Lee.”  
  
“I get it, Tony.”  
  
Shaking his head, “I don't think you do. I should show you pictures.”  
  
“Please don't.”


	5. Force of Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I bet that vein in his forehead bursts before he tells us what's wrong,” Sam says in the world's worst stage whisper.
> 
> “I dunno,” Steve murmurs, making an actual attempt at keeping his voice low, which Tony mostly appreciates, “he usually can't keep his mouth shut for too long.”

The next morning Bruce is nowhere to be found, which is both annoying and a little worrying.  
  
“JARVIS,” Tony frowns, “where's Bruce?”  
  
“Dr. Banner left last night after Ms. Potts returned.”  
  
Tony, palms flat on the work table, leans forward, eyes examining the clutter of technology as if he might find an answer there, “Shit. Any idea where he went?”  
  
“No, sir. He gave no indication where he might be heading.”  
  
Sighing, Tony snatches up a screwdriver, “Alright, thanks, JARVIS.”  
  
“You're welcome, sir. Would you like me to triangulate the positioning on his cellphone?”  
  
Smirking, Tony shakes his head, “If he's not back by tonight, sure.”  
  
“Very well, sir.”  
  
Except “tonight” comes and Bruce is still nowhere to be found. Tony lets JARVIS track Bruce's cell, but Bruce left his cell in his room, and that's when Tony starts to genuinely worry that he's irrevocably fucked everything up.  
  
He's pacing up and down the common area, considering his options. Nat and Clint are in the kitchen eating, but Steve and Sam are watching him wear a path in the carpet (they were playing cards but apparently Tony is more entertaining).  
  
“I bet that vein in his forehead bursts before he tells us what's wrong,” Sam says in the world's worst stage whisper.  
  
“I dunno,” Steve murmurs, making an actual attempt at keeping his voice low, which Tony mostly appreciates, “he usually can't keep his mouth shut for too long.”  
  
The open floor plan is giving Nat and Clint a show too, so Nat pipes up with, “If he didn't want to tell us what was wrong he'd be pacing in a lab with the doors locked.”  
  
“Stop hacking the system!” Tony shouts, legitimately angry, because this place is his baby and he did not put it together, circuit by circuit, brick by brick, so Natasha fucking Romanoff could stick her grubby little assassin fingers into its guts and corrupt it...and Oh, God, he said at least some of that out loud, judging by the look of actual shame and anger on her face and the way Clint's mouth is hanging open.  
  
“Wow,” Sam drawls, turning back to his cards. Steve grimaces, mouth and eyes wide, before doing the same.  
  
The burning of frustrated tears hits his eyes and Tony blinks against it because he doesn't actually enjoy making people feel like shit, he's just really fucking good at it. He strides over and leans against the island where her and Clint are eating...Middle Eastern food. Randomly.  
  
“If you want to look at something, just ask,” he grumbles, “Just try not to give everything ever to the press, I hate the press.”  
  
Huffing out a small laugh, Nat quirks her head, “Half the fun is seeing if I can beat you at your own game.”  
  
“You don't have to violate my privacy and my trust to do that,” he snaps back, wincing as soon as the words are out of his mouth, “shit. Look, just ask me, ok? Do you want passwords? You can have passwords. Unlimited access. But I hope you know that watching the security feeds makes you creepy, even if all you're doing is watching me freak out in the labs when my incredible social ineptitude finally catches up with me.”  
  
“Can I have passwords?” Clint grins.  
  
“No, Clint,” Nat and Tony say at the same time, smirking at each other.  
  
“You guys suck,” he mutters, shoving something Tony can't identify into his mouth. It's pink. Violently pink. He snags some and chews it thoughtfully for a few minutes.  
  
Natasha watches him with a raised eyebrow, “If you were hungry...”  
  
“What did I just put in my mouth?”  
  
“Torshi left,” Natasha grins, “pickled turnips.”  
  
“Not that I'm complaining,” Tony waves a hand around as if dismissing the very idea, “but who in the hell even thinks to pickle turnips?”  
  
“Who cares, it tastes good?” Clint shrugs.  
  
There's a soft sound, a kind of pop that Tony knows is JARVIS' subtle way of telling him something's going on. It's actually vaguely creepy to him sometimes that JARVIS has become _sneaky_ , except he's totally proud of it and loves every second.  
  
Tony turns around and finds Bruce trying to sneak past him down to the hallway where the bedrooms are.  
  
“Hey! Where the hell have you been?”  
  
Bruce holds up a hand and Tony only stops because he sees that it's trembling. Restraint. Bruce is angry. Holding up his hands, Tony edges closer.  
  
“Trouble in paradise?” Clint asks through a mouthful of felafel.  
  
Nat, thankfully, nudges him and shakes her head.  
  
“Hey,” Tony repeats, pitching his voice lower, “where've you been?”  
  
“Out,” Bruce grinds out tersely.  
  
“Yeah, I noticed,” Tony slings back, “I was worried about you.”  
  
“I need some space, Tony.”  
  
“Mmm...not happening,” Tony presses his lips together in a mockery of a smile and shakes his head, “Come on. We need to talk.”  
  
“You're the reason I'm angry right now,” Bruce practically growls.  
  
Blinking, Tony turns his face away, then back, brow furrowing, “See, that seems like more of a reason for us to talk.”  
  
Realizing he's not getting anywhere with this, Bruce just nods sharply and lets Tony herd him away from the kitchen and common area. Tony considers ducking into a lab, but that seems too public for a conversation like this, so he winds them around to his bedroom, noting the way Bruce's body tenses up even further the closer they get.  
  
“Sit down,” Tony orders calmly, gesturing to the bed.  
  
Bruce does and Tony immediately sits beside him, wrapping an arm around Bruce's shoulders.  
  
“Don't,” Bruce snarls.  
  
“Just breathe, Bruce. Deep breaths.”  
  
“I _can't_.”  
  
Biting his lip, Tony covers a white-knuckled fist with his hand.  
  
“I'm not supposed to make things worse,” Tony says miserably, voice thick.  
  
Curling in on himself slightly, Bruce's gaze valiantly tries to bore holes into the far wall. He starts taking deep breaths, as slow and even as he can manage. After several minutes of that though, he's barely calmed down at all.  
  
“Why don't you tell me what's wrong,” Tony suggests, “Just...take your time. Go slow.”  
  
Keeping his gaze focused on the wall, Bruce draws in a deep breath.  
  
“I...I don't like what's happening.”  
  
Blinking back the sharp ache that springs up at those words, Tony asks, “The touching?”  
  
“It's not just touching,” Bruce snaps, trembling intensifying as he tries to keep the anger inside.  
  
“You're right,” Tony admits, “it's a lot more than that.”  
  
“You can't play games with me.”  
  
“What?” Tony frowns “Bruce, I would never...what? Why would I...?”  
  
Bruce's breath comes faster and Tony presses his forehead to Bruce's temple.  
  
“I swear to science, I am not playing games with you. Whatever's happening...and trust me, I'm not entirely clear on exactly what is happening but...I know it's real. It's real, ok?”  
  
Breath hitching, Bruce turns, their noses brushing and Tony decides, yes, this moment, this moment now. So he tilts his chin up and presses their mouths together in a chaste kiss.   
  
They pull back and Bruce seems to be...not calm but not ready to fly off the handle either. So Tony kisses him again, close-mouthed, gentle. Bruce opens his mouth, but doesn't add any tongue to the mix, just kisses back for a second until he suddenly jerks back. He doesn't go far but when Tony tries to lean in again, Bruce shakes his head.  
  
“You have a girlfriend,” Bruce manages at last.  
  
“Pepper doesn't mind,” Tony assures him.  
  
“How magnanimous of her,” Bruce sneers.  
  
Brow furrowing, Tony straightens, “Hey, if you wanna be mad at someone, be mad at me. Leave her out of it.”  
  
Turning his face away, Bruce scowls at the floor.  
  
“Anyway, I told her what's been going on and she's fine with the whole thing. I'd never cheat on, Pep. Ever.”  
  
Bruce looks up at him disbelievingly, “So, kissing me doesn't count?”  
  
“Of course it _counts_ ,” Tony snorts, “It's just not _cheating_.”  
  
“... _What_?”  
  
“You know, it's kind of terrifying when I'm the most emotionally intelligent person in the room.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Bruce shakes his head, “I'm going to have to question your definition of emotional intelligence.”  
  
“Hey, I'm _trying_ to talk about this. What the hell are _you_ doing?”  
  
“I don't know!” Bruce growls, then pauses a moment before grinding out, “What the hell are we doing, Tony?”  
  
Tony opens his mouth and then shuts it again, “I actually have no idea. I'm 90% sure it's leading towards sex though.”  
  
“Doesn't that...freak you out a little?” Bruce asks, flinging an arm out in exasperation.  
  
“No,” Tony shakes his head, “Not even a little.”  
  
Bruce deflates at that, hand hanging in the air before dropping down to his thigh with a soft thud.  
  
“We should get somewhat undressed and then make-out for a while,” Tony says authoritatively.  
  
“Do you...” Bruce shakes his head, “do you have any idea what you do to me?”  
  
“I have a vague idea, but enlighten me,” Tony grins, “The devil's in the details, right?”  
  
Huffing out a laugh, Bruce nods, “I just went from 60 to 0 in terms of anger in under a minute.”  
  
“Has that ever happened before?”  
  
Shaking his head, Bruce stands up, crossing his arms and looking slightly lost. When he looks at Tony it's wary and slightly awed, as if Tony's an unidentified species, or something long thought extinct. Like something Bruce had wanted and believed unattainable.  
  
“Never,” he breathes, swallowing hard.  
  
“Ok...is that bad, somehow?” Tony shrugs.  
  
“No, it's...maybe. You have a girlfriend, Tony.”  
  
“You said that, and...”  
  
“She's ok with it,” Bruce nods, brow knitting in annoyance, “what if I'm not? I mean, if she's your girlfriend, what the hell does that make me?”  
  
“My very good friend whom I am also having sex with?” Tony says slowly, glancing at Bruce sidelong, eyes faintly narrowed.  
  
“That's it, huh?” Bruce licks his lips, nodding again, “Ok.”  
  
Scrunching up his face, Tony stands up, spreading his hands wide, “Am I missing something?”  
  
“Usually,” Bruce teases.  
  
“Look...this has been progressing pretty naturally without us screwing it up by talking about it. I say, we stay the course.”  
  
“I don't want to screw up our friendship,” Bruce says, but it sounds weak and kind of like bullshit to Tony.  
  
“On the one hand,” Tony holds his hands out, shifting them back and forth like a scale balancing itself out, “I'm pretty sure our friendship is, by definition, screwed up. On the other hand, I'm never going to stop being your friend, because if there's one thing I'm good at, it's sticking around even when things are completely, ridiculously fucked up. So, basically, you're stuck with me and if you didn't want that to happen you should have thought a lot harder about becoming friends with me in the first place.”  
  
Chuckling, Bruce shakes his head for a minute, like he's trying to gently dislodge some thought from his ear.  
  
“Ok.”  
  
“Make-outs?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Tony pumps his fist in the air, “Yes!”  
  
The chuckle becomes a laugh and Bruce uncrosses his arms finally, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it aside.  
  
Tony slides forward, grinning, seductive, and pulls at Bruce's belt. Bruce bites his lip, focus falling to the arc reactor. The lights start to dim and Tony tosses his gaze to the ceiling.  
  
“Thanks for setting the mood, JARVIS.”  
  
Something that sounds suspiciously like Marvin Gaye comes softly over the comm in response.  
  
“Your AI is conspiring,” Bruce laughs, nervous tension peeking through.  
  
“He does that sometimes,” Tony shrugs, tossing Bruce's belt aside, “I'd be lying if I said I wasn't proud.”  
  
Toeing off his shoes and after allowing Bruce to do the same, he shuffles in close and frames Bruce's face with his hands, tilting his own head to kiss him. Bruce's hands stay by his side for a minute, until Tony draws him out, tongue teasing and retreating until Bruce's tongue follows. Until Bruce is pressing them closer, hands coming up to wrap around Tony, drawing him in tight against Bruce's own body. Despite their similarity in height, Bruce nearly draws Tony right off his feet in that moment. Tony encourages it. He wraps his arms around Bruce's neck and lets the other man bear his weight.  
  
Then suddenly Bruce is guiding them back towards the bed. When Tony trips back onto the mattress, Bruce kneels, bodily hefting Tony further up, making Tony smirk and laugh. Something about that seems to lift a small burden from Bruce's shoulders. He smiles back and settles in the cradle of Tony's hips, leading the kiss now, slow and inexorable.  
  
They make out for a good hour until Tony feels like he will never recover, like he's suffering from severe oxygen deprivation and his brain doesn't even know how to begin to function. Even then, Bruce just ducks his head and latches onto Tony's neck, leaving a patchwork of hickeys.  
  
Tony threads his fingers through Bruce's hair, palms resting at the base of his skull, encouraging his ministrations. The sharp scrape of teeth makes Tony suck in a breath, hips thrusting faintly.  
  
“Sorry,” Bruce pulls back breathlessly.  
  
“No,” Tony reassures him, pulling him close again, “no, it's good.”  
  
Quirking an eyebrow up, Bruce does it again, and, earning the same response, continues until there's precious little space on Tony's neck or collarbone left unmarked.  
  
Each nibble, each scrape of teeth, every time Bruce bears down and sucks just a little too hard has Tony's hips thrusting unsteadily. Each movement short and half aborted. Bruce grunts and groans nasally, his own hips thrusting every now and then.  
  
Feeling hot and severely bothered, Tony pushes at Bruce's shoulders.  
  
“Too much clothing,” he gasps out, struggling with his jeans.  
  
Bruce nods, rolling over to struggle with his own pants. When they've stripped down fully, Bruce rolls back over on top of Tony and freezes, staring down at him with lust blown pupils and a faint edge of panic.  
  
Rolling his hips, Tony grins, “Lube and condoms in the table to the left.”  
  
“Um...” Bruce swallows, “Could we just....slow down a little?”  
  
Blinking for a second, Tony mentally kicks himself and then nods a little too quickly.  
  
“No, yeah, of course,” he acquiesces immediately, “You ok?”  
  
“Yeah, yes, definitely. I just um...” Bruce licks his lips, “it's been a few years. I just uh...”  
  
“You don't have to explain,” Tony shakes his head, “however fast or slow you wanna go is fine. I can rub one out later if I have to.”  
  
Eyes slipping shut, Bruce smiles, laughter bubbling up inside him and spilling out over his lips when his body can't contain it any longer. He cracks one eye open and peers at Tony through his lashes.  
  
“What?” Tony grins in confusion but Bruce just shakes his head.  
  
After he calms down he presses a warm kiss to Tony's mouth, “I appreciate it, Tony. Thank you.”  
  
“You want some more kissing or do you just want some naked cuddle time?”  
  
Blinking, Bruce goes suddenly serious, “...you really meant that, didn't you?”  
  
“Of course I did,” Tony scoffs, “Why else would I say it?”  
  
Gaze dropping to Tony's collarbone, Bruce winces, “You look like a leper.”  
  
Squirming with pleasure, Tony waggles his eyebrows, “Good.”  
  
“You're ridiculous.”  
  
With a dismissive shrug, Tony smirks, “You can leave all the bruises on me you want.”  
  
Eyes flitting down to Tony's hips, Bruce sees a smattering of fading bruises there.  
  
“Pepper has surprisingly strong hands,” Tony huffs out on a breath.  
  
“After all the violence you've seen...I would've thought...” Bruce shakes his head, brow furrowed.  
  
“This is on my terms. Something I can control,” letting his head fall back onto the pillow, Tony's gaze flits between Bruce's shoulder and his eyes, “It helps me deal with the bruises I _don't_ want.”  
  
Holding Tony's stare for a moment, Bruce rubs a thumb over the bruises on Tony's hipbone, “I don't know if I can do that to you on purpose.”  
  
Shrugging, Tony's mouth twitches, “Then don't.”  
  
With a slow nod, Bruce traces the patterns of bruises and hickeys with his eyes.  
  
“So, it's ok to go slow, huh?”  
  
“As slow as you need to go.”  
  
Worrying his lower lip for a minute, Bruce rolls off of Tony.  
  
“Can we just...sleep for a little while? I think I need to process.”  
  
Dropping a kiss on his shoulder, Tony hauls the covers up over them, “You don't even have to ask.”  
  



	6. Naked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd spoil her endlessly if she let him. He'd give her any and everything. He'd let her abuse him and use him until that soft, sweet animal of his heart shriveled up and died.

Pepper comes in to find them naked in bed. She chuckles softly, shaking her head, and starts the process of taking off her own kind of armor for the night. First the shoes, tucked away in the closet. Then the clothes, lain out for dry cleaning. Then off comes the jewelry, the make-up, the hair tie.  
  
Then it's time to apply the balm. One lotion for the face and neck, another for the rest of the body. Some leave-in conditioner run through the ends of her hair.  
  
Staring at her body in the mirror, she turns, fingers tracing a line, then a curve.  
  
She pulls on her pajamas and brushes her teeth, thinking about a song she'd heard in the car but couldn't remember the name of. She hums a little, sings what she remembers, asks JARVIS if he knows.  
  
“Hallelujah, madame.”  
  
JARVIS begins playing a version Pepper doesn't recognize and she shakes her head.  
  
“That's the song but that's not...”  
  
“Perhaps this one then,” JARVIS interrupts.  
  
Another version, the right one, the one she remembers and likes, begins filtering softly through the speakers. Pepper leans against the counter and smiles softly.  
  
“Thank you, JARVIS.”  
  
“Of course, madame.”  
  
Sighing through her nose, Pepper toes her feet into her slippers and pads into the bedroom, staring down at Tony and Bruce.  
  
Tony's neck and collarbone are all hickeys, vivid against his pale skin. The bruises she left on his hips are fading, sickly green and yellow now. She comprehends why Tony wants to be marked, even if she doesn't fully understand it. Not wants. Needs. He needs it and she's always happy to give him whatever he needs. The same way he's always happy to give her whatever she needs. He'd spoil her endlessly if she let him. He'd give her any and everything. He'd let her abuse him and use him until that soft, sweet animal of his heart shriveled up and died. Even on her worst days, Pepper tries to be worthy of the trust and love Tony has placed in her.  
  
Which isn't to say that she's forgotten what a complete and total jerk he can be, or how egotistical he is about his 'genius', or how he can utterly forget social grace and basic manners at the worst of times. Not to mention when he's forgetful and brings her strawberries or leaves her sitting in a restaurant for an hour until she relents and calls him to remind him of their dinner date.  
  
But he's gotten better. He's always trying to be better for her. She knows, because he tells her constantly, that she is the most important thing in the world to him, and she knows, because he's shown her, that that's true.  
  
It was strange how this had happened. In any other relationship Pepper's not sure she could have accepted it but with Tony it's easy. It's not even a little hard.  
  
Taking a page from Tony's book, she decides not to over think it. She crawls into bed on Tony's other side, happy for once for this ridiculously large mattress, and presses her face to the spot between his shoulder blades. His skin is sleep warm and smells clean.  
  
So, they're naked, but they didn't have sex. Interesting.  
  
Sliding a hand over Tony's side, her arm rests against Bruce's, and she soon falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've never listened to Jeff Buckley's version of "Hallelujah" I suggest finding it on YouTube. It's beautiful.


	7. Relativity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I heard about the strawberries.”
> 
> “That was actually a poorly thought out peace offering. Ask him about the romantic horseback ride that ended with sunburns and Tony hanging from a tree.”

Bruce slides in closer to the warmth in front of him, an almost forgotten feeling of contentment fluttering to life in his gut when an arm tightens around his waist.  
  
He presses his lips to the throat in front of him, the faint glow of the arc reactor beating against his eyelids. Tony rumbles out a soft noise, half grunt, half groan, before dropping a kiss to Bruce's forehead.  
  
Touch. All the touch he wanted, very literally, right at his fingertips. Bruce slides a hand over Tony's side and hauls him closer.  
  
There's a little of the frantic need Bruce had felt last night, pulsing low, hot lust gripping him by the balls. His hand smooths down to Tony's groin, fingers tickled by coarse hair as he pauses just centimeters away from his prize.  
  
“Is this ok?” he breathes.  
  
“Hell yes,” Tony grins.  
  
Bruce's fingers snake down to curl around Tony's prick. He teases his way along Tony's shaft, rubbing his palm over the head, reveling in the soft, hitching breaths Tony exhales against his cheek.  
  
They're both hard and leaking in record time. Tony hauls Bruce against him, kissing him as they rut against each other, Bruce stroking them both, their pricks sliding against each other.  
  
There's a flash of green behind his eyelids and then Tony's kissing him, saying his name over and over, “Bruce...Bruce...”, a sweet reverence in his voice that keeps Bruce grounded in the moment until he cums, safe and solid in Tony's arms.  
  
Tony keeps thrusting and Bruce twists his wrist, gently bites Tony's bottom lip, and smirks when Tony cums all over his hand.  
  
Then Tony is pressing their foreheads together as they come down, as their bodies regulate breathing, heart rate, temperature. Bruce lets Tony pull him closer, inhales the scent of their sex and the sharp/sweet smell of Tony's cologne mixed with the faint hint of musk. He closes his eyes and swallows around the overwhelming fear that he'll wake up any minute, alone again.  
  
But then Tony's fingers are in his hair, tilting his face up, and he's being kissed, deep and possessive.  
  
“That was so worth the wait,” Tony rumbles against Bruce's lips.  
  
“Good to know you're easy to please,” Bruce chuckles.  
  
“Hmmph...”  
  
Bruce sits up, thinking about the unpleasantness of dried spunk on his skin, and his eyes immediately go wide.  
  
“Oh, God.”  
  
Frowning, Tony turns over and huffs out a laugh. Pepper is asleep, curled up tight under the covers.  
  
“The thing I love and hate about Pepper,” he grins, “she sleeps like the dead.”  
  
Bruce all but heaves himself out of the bed, hastily yanking on his wrinkled clothing, and Tony calls his name softly.  
  
“I'm just gonna go make some coffee,” Bruce replies lowly, gesturing towards the kitchen.  
  
“Ok,” Tony nods, seeming skeptical.  
  
He watches Bruce go and then reaches out to Pepper, running a hand up and down her side.  
  
“Hey,” he murmurs, “You gonna sleep all day? It's ten o'clock already.”  
  
“Mmm?” Pepper frowns, burrowing deeper into her pillow, “no.”  
  
“No what?”  
  
“Go away, Tony,” she grumbles.  
  
“It's ten o'clock,” Tony repeats.  
  
“What?” she yawns, reaching up to rub the grit out of her eyes as she peers blearily at the world around her.  
  
“Good morning, Pepper Pot,” he grins cheerfully.  
  
“Morning?” she scowls, “Why am I awake?”  
  
“Because it's ten o'clock and you don't like to sleep too late,” he smiles, dropping a kiss on the corner of her mouth.  
  
“...did you and Bruce just have sex?” she chuckles, leaning in to sniff him.  
  
“Um...”  
  
“With me in the bed, Tony? Really? You give whole new definitions to the word shameless.”  
  
Rolling her over onto her back, Tony shuffles down, kissing her stomach.  
  
“Ok, but, in my defense I didn't actually realize you were in the bed until we were done. Do hand jobs count fully as sex? What's the verdict on that?”  
  
“They don't count as handshakes, I know that much,” Pepper huffs out on a disbelieving laugh.  
  
“Ha. You're hilarious, anyway, I was facing the opposite direction and only about half awake. Bruce didn't even notice you until he sat up and then he panicked and ran away again. That's kind of becoming a pattern.”  
  
Looking up into her face, brow furrowed, Tony quirks his head, “That's probably not a good thing.”  
  
“Well, considering that I like him, I'd say it's definitely not a good thing. I've enjoyed our conversations and if sex with you is going to send him running every time he realizes I'm in the room, it's going to put a damper on our friendship.”  
  
“I'll talk to him,” Tony nods.  
  
“ _I'll_ talk to him.”  
  
“...you sure?”  
  
Pepper raises an eyebrow and Tony holds up a hand in surrender.  
  
“You're sure.”  
  
“Very. Now,” she pushes at his shoulders, “you could be doing something else down there besides talking about Bruce.”  
  
Grinning, Tony tugs at her pajama bottoms, “Something like french kissing your delicate lady flower?”  
  
“Don't ever call it that again,” she laughs, lifting her hips, “but yes.”  
  
“Hand me a pillow?” he asks, nuzzling her groin.  
  
Pepper fishes around for the large extra firm foam one that he likes for these occasions and gently bops him in the head with it, laughing at his look of melodramatic indignation.  
  
“You are an evil, _evil_ woman...”  
  
“That you adore and could never live without,” Pepper grins, cupping his cheek.  
  
“Not for one second,” he agrees, grinning back.  
  
He shoves the foam pillow under himself, shifting until he's settled. It's curved so that there's a distinct groove down the middle, so the arc reactor won't make him uncomfortable. Spreading her thighs, Pepper bites her lips as Tony ducks his head, looking up at her through his lashes as he licks a firm, broad swath up, smirking when she gasps.  
  
Tony closes his eyes then, sighing with contentment as Pepper's hand lands on his head, fingers carding through his hair. He keeps licking, tongue wide and flat and soft until he feels and smells that warm, wetness, her honey, her arousal. He nibbles along the edges, taking one lip into his mouth and sucking, tracing the folds with his tongue. Giving the other side the same treatment, he reaches up to tease with a finger, reveling in her sweet noises of pleasure. The muscles of her thighs and abdomen are twitching and fluttering, her hips thrusting down minutely as she tries to get more of his tongue and his mouth. She scratches lightly at his scalp, sucking on her lower lip and worrying it as her breath starts to come faster. Tony uses his nose, rubbing it up against her clit, sliding a finger inside of her wet heat, then another, curving them as she moans softly.  
  
Something must have had her wound up tight, because when Tony starts sucking on her clit he can tell Pepper's already close to cumming. She must be stressed out, he thinks, he should ask her – maybe it's the board again, the bastards.  
  
But later, he'll ask her later, when she's not about to have an orgasm – timing, timing is everything.  
  
Tony doubles his efforts, humming gently, fingers thrusting in and out, the gentlest hint of teeth.  
  
It's only a few more minutes and then she's bearing down, muscles fluttering around his fingers, a choked out moan escaping her mouth, head thrown back – God, she's so gorgeous, how did he luck out like this?  
  
When the rolling waves of her orgasm fade, she hauls him close, kissing him not quite but almost fierce, claiming, owning. Tony melts into her, slides his hands over her body, loves the smell and taste of her.  
  
“I should...” she pulls away, “I need to run some errands today and I promised Maria we'd get some lunch together.”  
  
Tony pouts, “Can I have you to myself tomorrow?”  
  
“Mmm...” Pepper smiles, “that sounds nice. Are you stir crazy yet, or do you want to stay in?”  
  
“Maybe we'll go to Central Park. I could probably use some of what passes for fresh air around here.”  
  
Tony blinks as something occurs to him, “I haven't been out much lately, have I?”  
  
“You've been kind of a hermit,” Pepper confirms.  
  
“Have I been shirking my duties?”  
  
“Would I let you?”  
  
Ducking his head, Tony peers up at her with a self deprecating smirk, “I don't deserve you.”  
  
“I'm sure that depends on who you ask, but I'm happy and I'm pretty sure my opinion is the only one that counts on that matter.”  
  
“I'll defer to your wisdom in this and all other matters,” Tony says solemnly, screwing his face up into some mockery of seriousness.  
  
“You'd better, I'm the only one of us with any common sense,” Pepper scoffs, “Now kiss me a little more before we go clean up.”  
  
“Gladly,” he grins, pressing their lips together once more.  
  
After they've kissed and cleaned up and kissed a little more, Pepper winds her way out to the common area. Bruce is propped up at the kitchen island, papers and a StarkPad spread out in front of him, glasses threatening to slide off his nose.  
  
Bruce glances up at Pepper and then back down at the data in his hand, pressing his lips together, shifting minutely in discomfort. Pepper smiles but he doesn't see it. Shaking her head, she sits down next to him, intentionally close.  
  
“Those were some pretty impressive love bites,” she smirks.  
  
Blush creeping up his neck and cheeks, Bruce licks his lips.  
  
“Um...”  
  
“Are you busy? Can we talk for a minute?”  
  
“Um...” Bruce nods, setting aside his StarkPad, “Sure um...yes. No, I'm not busy, yes we can...talk.”  
  
“I want us to be friends,” Pepper smiles, laying a hand on his knee, “For our own sakes.”  
  
He assesses her for a long moment and Pepper waits him out patiently. Mouth quirking up at one corner, Bruce peers at her over his glasses and nods, “I'd like that.”  
  
Gaze falling to her hand, Bruce's mouth presses into a line, “Are you sure you're ok with...”  
  
“If you were one of his...vapid little Playboy Bunny fangirls I...” Pepper bites her lower lip, taking a second to compose herself, “I had to watch Tony sleep with too many of those types. Before. I don't think I could share him with someone like that. With someone who loved his money and his status and not _him_. But I think you see him the way I do. You see his flaws and you know there's a better man underneath them. He _wants_ to be a better man for us. He tries.”  
  
“He's the first person I've been with in years,” Bruce admits quietly.  
  
Tilting her head to the side, Pepper regards him, “You could do a lot worse than Tony Stark.”  
  
Bruce's eyes snap back up to her face, gaze fixing on her's as he tries to read her expression. She gives him a small smile and pats his knee.  
  
“He will let you destroy him,” she says solemnly, “he will let you chew him up and spit him out. I know it's been hard for you and I think we, all of us, deserve some happiness. Tony...he's hard to get down. Most things roll off him like water off of a duck's back but...it can be easy, sometimes, to forget that under all that bluster is a sensitive guy. Things effect him more than he lets on. Sometimes more than even _he_ realizes.”  
  
“I don't want to hurt him,” Bruce shakes his head slightly, “I'm actually kind of terrified of hurting him.”  
  
Mouth turning up at the edges, Pepper nods, “I thought as much.”  
  
“I don't want to hurt you either,” he mutters.  
  
“That's not very likely to happen,” she assures him, “I have no problem telling people exactly what my boundaries are and enforcing them. I promise if something is bothering me or making me uncomfortable that I'll tell you about it. But I need you to promise me that you're going to do the same.”  
  
“What...” Bruce shakes his head, eyes darting away and then back, mouth hanging open for a moment, “I don't have any right to make demands here. This is...he's _your_...I have _no idea_ what's going on anymore.”  
  
Getting up to get herself some coffee, Pepper considers it for a moment.  
  
“I think you and Tony are delving into some unknown territory,” she says finally, “I don't know what I'd call this. I do know that Tony's happy with it, that I'm comfortable with it, and that you...you seem to need this.”  
  
Bruce turns around to watch her, gaze occasionally dropping to the floor as he considers her words.  
  
“I don't want to cause any trouble for you two. You've...you've both been so good to me.”  
  
An amused smile spreads over Pepper's face and she steps close again, putting her hands on Bruce's shoulders, “You say that like we're doing you a favor, Bruce. You're a friend, not a burden.”  
  
Ducking his head, Bruce swallows against the lump in his throat.  
  
“It's been a while since I had any of those.”  
  
Pulling him into a hug, Pepper sighs, “Well, you have some now. Try not to worry about it too much, ok? We'll figure all of this out.”  
  
He hugs her back, face pressed against her shoulder. He sniffles and Pepper pushes him back, brow furrowed with concern.  
  
“What's wrong?”  
  
“I've just kind of gotten used to not getting what I want.”  
  
“Don't let Tony hear you say that,” she teases, “he'll tie himself in knots trying to give you everything.”  
  
“Why do I have the feeling that ends with me being frustrated and him pouting?”  
  
Chuckling, Pepper glances away, valiantly trying to hold back a grin, “Because that's pretty much always how it ends.”  
  
“I heard about the strawberries.”  
  
“That was actually a poorly thought out peace offering. Ask him about the romantic horseback ride that ended with sunburns and Tony hanging from a tree.”  
  
“He forgot sunscreen?”  
  
“And he's never ridden a horse in his life,” she laughs.  
  
Bruce chuckles, eyes still a little watery but otherwise seeming somewhere close to happy.  
  
“So, where is everyone?” Pepper asks as she goes back to making herself a coffee.  
  
“Clint was sulking in the gym,” Bruce smirks, “he was still there when I finished on the treadmill. Nat, Sam, and Steve got a lead on...um...Bucky? Is that what we're supposed to call him?”  
  
Shrugging, Pepper bites her lip, “I have no idea. I think Steve will have a conniption if we go around calling him anything else, though. I personally intend to call him Mr. Barnes until I'm corrected.”  
  
Huffing out a laugh, Bruce nods, “I think it's going to be awkward no matter what.”  
  
“Painfully,” Pepper grimaces.  
  
She sips at her coffee and Bruce stares at the tiles for a moment.  
  
“Thanks, Pepper,” he says quietly.  
  
Quirking her head to the side, Pepper smiles, “I like you, Bruce. I want us to be friends because I like you. My interest in this is at least a _little_ selfish.”  
  
She comes closer, putting her arm around his shoulders.  
  
Biting his lip, Bruce's gaze flits to the side, a pleased smile struggling to break free, “Ok.”  
  
“Ok?”  
  
“Yeah, um...that's it,” he gins, unable to hold it back any longer, “Just...Ok.”


	8. Stabilize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, listen...” Tony smiles softly, “I'm not gonna let that happen.”
> 
> “How are you going to stop it?” Bruce snaps.
> 
> “I was gonna take a stab at adult conversation,” Tony smirks, “That should be a new and interesting experience for me.”

Tony wanders into the kitchen after Pepper's gone, smiling as he catches sight of Bruce and latching onto him as soon as he's close enough to touch.  
  
Bruce's eyes go wide, and he huffs out an amused but slightly embarrassed, “Tony,” even though he lays a hand on the arm wrapped around his neck.  
  
Ignoring the mild protest, Tony kisses the corner of Bruce's mouth.  
  
“You...” Bruce laughs in disbelief, “You're incredible.”  
  
“If anybody doesn't like it they can take a flying leap off the side of the tower,” Tony shrugs, sniffing the air and shrugging his eyebrows as he makes for the coffee pot.  
  
“You can't just go around...” Bruce waves a hand in the air, lacking the word.  
  
Tony pauses, and then jumps, accidentally spilling coffee on his hand. He shakes it and sticks a finger in his mouth, “Mwhat?”  
  
“...I...” Bruce's brow furrows and then shrugs up as he searches for the words, “life has consequences, Tony, you can't just do whatever you want all the time.”  
  
Frowning, Tony leans against the counter, crossing his legs at the ankle, “You've lost me here. We're...pretty much alone except for Clint sulking in the gym...why the gym? Any clue? Anyway! We're...”  
  
Tony pauses, and then blinks up at Bruce, something close to hurt in his eyes.  
  
“You're ashamed.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You are,” Tony says with certainty, voice rising slightly in anger, “You're ashamed.”  
  
“I...” Bruce shakes his head, “I'm not entirely sure what I'm feeling here but shame isn't it.”  
  
“Really? So...if I kissed you in front of everyone you'd be alright with it?”  
  
Bruce's expression goes blank and his gaze drops to the floor.  
  
“See?” Tony points an accusing finger at him.  
  
Shaking his head fiercely, Bruce stands up, getting right into Tony's space, “I can't take them poking fun at it. I can't listen to them...make jokes and...”  
  
Tony's mouth falls open, then snaps immediately shut, and he grips Bruce's upper arms, rubbing them soothingly as Bruce begins to shake.  
  
“Hey, listen...” Tony smiles softly, “I'm not gonna let that happen.”  
  
“How are you going to stop it?” Bruce snaps.  
  
“I was gonna take a stab at adult conversation,” Tony smirks, “That should be a new and interesting experience for me.”  
  
Huffing out a miserable laugh, Bruce shakes his head, pressing himself up against Tony. Tony wraps Bruce up in his arms, pressing a kiss to his temple.  
  
“You can't even get in a stupid argument with me,” Bruce mutters bitterly.  
  
“Has it always been this hard?”  
  
“No...”  
  
Bruce pulls back, blinking, some revelation coming over him, “No. I mean, yes, but in the last year it...”  
  
He pulls away completely, walking out of the room. Tony blinks after him for a moment and then sets himself in motion, giving pursuit.  
  
“Bruce?”  
  
“It hasn't been this hard for a while,” Bruce says over his shoulder, not slowing down as he heads for his room, “Why did that change? _When_ did that change?”  
  
In his room, Bruce pulls a journal from a shelf and begins flipping through it, sitting down on the mattress. Without hesitation Tony sits beside him, crowding closer to peer over his shoulder.  
  
“Anger management diary?”  
  
Bruce shrugs and nods, eyes scanning each page until he hits an entry marked two months prior. Tony reads over his shoulder and smirks, pressing a kiss to Bruce's shoulder.  
  
“I remember that day,” Tony rumbles, “Do you think it was the alien weapon that did it or my vortex of charm?”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Bruce chuckles lowly, “I'm betting on alien weaponry.”  
  
“I have one squirreled away. Wanna do some science?”  
  
“I think that's possibly the sexiest thing you've ever said.”  
  
“I'm submitting an article to JOTMI, I should read you some snippets,” Tony grins.  
  
Fanning himself with the journal, Bruce smirks, “You animal.”  
  
“Later,” Tony chuckles, standing up, “For now, let's go see if we can't figure this thing out.”  
  
Bruce takes the hand Tony offers him but doesn't let go once he's on his feet. Instead, he crowds closer, pressing a kiss to Tony's neck.  
  
“Thanks for...”  
  
“No, no, nope, nuh uh, none of that. Science. Come on.”  
  
Tony tugs a laughing Bruce along, heading toward the labs.  
  
In the lab, JARVIS does some initial scans and Tony leans against a worktable with a StarkPad in hand.  
  
“So...let's catalogue some symptoms. Number one, you've had trouble controlling your anger.”  
  
“More-so than usual,” Bruce says, holding still as the scanner passes over him again.  
  
“Right, so, anything else?”  
  
Biting his lip, Bruce drops his gaze, “I've been a little more prone to...to crying than usual. Now that I'm thinking about it my appetite has changed too. I may have put on a few pounds but I haven't weighed myself in a while.”  
  
“Essentially, it gave you PMS,” Tony smirks.  
  
“Yeah, except me with PMS is like strapping C4 to a gas truck in rush hour traffic.”  
  
Tony clears his throat and looks back down to the screen, typing some more. The scan completes and Bruce sags, dropping into a nearby chair, and rubbing a hand over tired features.  
  
“It...” Tony stops himself from saying something profoundly stupid, “has it been that bad?”  
  
Sucking in a deep breath, Bruce gestures at the compiling data, “It hasn't been like this in years, Tony. I think...if it hadn't been for you I would've lost control again.”  
  
Bruce pauses, gaze flicking up at Tony and then back down. He opens his mouth and then shuts it once more, shaking his head and turning away. The hum of scans can't quite mask the heaviness of Bruce's silence. Tony frowns, edging closer, tapping Bruce's forearm with his knuckles.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I can't depend on you to always be there.”  
  
“Sure you can...”  
  
He says it so quickly, so insistently, so sweetly and completely sincerely that Bruce almost doesn't argue.  
  
“I don't mean...” Bruce takes a deep breath, “I know you want to be there. But there will be times where you can't be.”  
  
Tony opens his mouth and then shuts it, pressing his lips together in a thin, grim smile. He nods and then sighs heavily, scooping up his StarkPad.  
  
“Well, we're gonna figure this out, so it won't matter anyway.”  
  
Bruce reaches out but Tony turns, bringing everything up on a holographic display, medical data and diagrams surrounding them in the air.  
  
“So, we can see if it's reversible but we should consult with someone on maybe getting you some medication to regulate your hormones in the meantime. I mean, if that's even possible.”  
  
“Right,” Bruce nods, squashing down the nagging feeling of doubt and fear in his gut, “Do you know anyone who might be able to help with that?”  
  
“I've got a short list,” Tony mutters, maximizing some things, tossing other things to the side, “Do you want to subject yourself to some more scans here or at a hospital?”  
  
“Here,” Bruce says without hesitation.  
  
Pointing at some readouts, Tony steps to the side so Bruce can take a better look.  
  
“Have you ever taken any scans of yourself before? X-rays, MRIs...? Pre-Jolly Green and Post.”  
  
“I have one x-ray of my leg from when I was sixteen. Pretty much everything else has been lost as far as I know.”  
  
Gesturing to a scan, Tony reaches out to pull it closer, flicking his fingers to blow up the image.  
  
“JARVIS, image search. Kidneys, male, non-smoker, good health, early 40's to mid-40's in age. Bring up the four clearest for us.”  
  
“Here you are, sir.”  
  
“Thanks, J,” Tony lines the images up, two on either side of Bruce's body scan, “Notice anything?”  
  
Bruce peers closely, squinting faintly as he examines them.  
  
“My adrenal glands...”  
  
“Roughly about three times the size they should be,” Tony nods, “You know you better than anyone else, is that normal?”  
  
“Not even a little bit,” Bruce scratches his chin, propping a hand on his hip, “I'd remember something like that.”  
  
“I figured you would,” Tony sighs, scrunching up his face, “JARVIS, isolate the rest of Bruce's  hormone glands, with comparison images.”  
  
Examining them critically, Bruce shakes his head, “They're a little swollen but nowhere near as big as the adrenals. My adrenals look like they're on steroids.”  
  
“I think that qualifies as one of the best unintentional jokes I've ever heard. Anyway, what do adrenal glands do?” Tony asks, already knowing the answer.  
  
“...fight or flight,” Bruce heaves out on an annoyed breath, “Anger.”  
  
Tony expands and shrinks a few more screens, sending some scuttling away with clever flicks of his fingers.  
  
Face scrunching up on one side, Tony quirks his head and then crosses his arms, squinting at the data in front of him.  
  
“Think I can get a few blood samples out of you?”  
  
“To do what with?” Bruce scoffs.  
  
“Believe it or not I have the equipment to analyze it.”  
  
Shaking his head, Bruce huffs out a mirthless laugh, flinging a hand out, “Of course you do.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“What about your short list?”  
  
Tony shrugs, “I'm just making their job easier.”  
  
“Do you even know how to draw blood?” Bruce challenges, hands on his hips.  
  
“I've drawn my own enough times,” Tony shoots back, “I know how to find a vein and I have everything I need here.”  
  
“The perks of being a billionaire?”  
  
Nodding shamelessly, Tony smirks, “Amazing what money can buy.”  
  
“You're incredible,” Bruce snorts.  
  
“So I've been told,” Tony preens, “Now come on, hop up on Dr. Stark's table.”  
  
Sighing through his teeth, Bruce shucks his jacket and hops up on a worktable, leaning back on his hands and watching Tony as he gathers everything he needs together on a tray. The air in the lab is cool and Bruce feels the slight prickle of gooseflesh on his arms as he watches Tony wash up, put on some gloves, and plop himself on a stool before wheeling over to Bruce, shrugging his eyebrows.  
  
“Pick an arm, any arm,” Tony says half under his breath, arranging everything on the tray to his liking.  
  
Bruce holds his left out and Tony ties on a tourniquet before swiping the skin near Bruce's inner elbow with an alcohol wipe. Tony waits a second then taps the flesh sharply, encouraging a vein to raise up. Eying the area critically, he pulls a sterile needle out of a packet, and carefully inserts it so easily and painlessly that Bruce blinks in surprise. Tony whips off the tourniquet and Bruce watches as Tony fills up several small vials before pressing a cotton ball over the the punctured skin and withdrawing the needle carefully. He folds Bruce's arm up to keep the cotton ball in place and wheels away again, tray in hand. He puts a few vials in a mini-fridge that's partially buried under a deconstructed chassis, but the rest get inserted into various machines for testing. The whir of equipment fills the lab with soft noise and Bruce watches Tony's strangely quiet efficiency with a mild expression that belies his interest. Tony could be surprising. On the surface he seemed easy to read, but underneath was an interesting tangle of a human being.  
  
When Tony wheels back in front of him with a Captain America adhesive bandage Bruce breathes out a laugh.  
  
“Were they out of the Iron Man ones at the pharmacy?”  
  
“I thought Steve would get a kick out of them,” Tony shrugs with a smirk, “I put them all over Nat last time she got banged up, although I'm pretty sure her revenge is going to be brutal and terrifying.”  
  
“Probably,” Bruce grins.  
  
Peering up at him with an amused glare, Tony takes off the gloves and tosses them in the trash, before resting his hands on Bruce's thighs.  
  
“So, besides the hormone thing, how are you right now?”  
  
Smile slipping from his face, Bruce looks away and shrugs, “Ok, I guess.”  
  
“I'm calling bullshit.”  
  
“I'm...I'm worried about what this means. About the risk to everyone else,” eyes coming back up to Tony's, “It'd be safer if I went away for a while.”  
  
“You know, sometimes,” Tony scowls, “sometimes you get to lean on people. Sometimes people are strong enough to take the weight.”  
  
Shaking his head, Bruce licks his lips, “It's too much.”  
  
At Tony's look of annoyance, Bruce insists, “I'll crush you with it, Tony, it's too much.”  
  
“Am I the only person in this tower? Clint tried to help you spar and once we've got you sorted out you should probably take him up on it again. We've had some fun with everyone. We've... _bonded_. There's not a person here who wouldn't hang out with you, or talk to you, or listen to you if you would pull your head out of your ass long enough. We're all screwed up...”  
  
“Not like me,” Bruce bites out, “No one can do the damage I do.”  
  
“Whatever,” Tony snaps, standing up and getting right into Bruce's space, “If you want to hide behind that for the rest of your life, go ahead, but you can't get rid of me, so don't bother trying.”  
  
He pulls Bruce's face to his neck and wraps his other arm around Bruce's shoulders.  
  
“If you try to run off again I'm coming after you. I can access satellites, so go ahead and see how far you can get.”  
  
“That sounds kind of like stalking,” Bruce mutters against Tony's collarbone.  
  
“Then stop being a baby and running away from your problems.”  
  
“Alright, Tony,” Bruce swallows, clenching his eyes tightly shut, “I get it.”  
  
Tony cards his fingers through Bruce's hair and sighs softly.  
  
“I don't want you to go,” he admits, words squeezing past the lump in his throat.  
  
“I know,” Bruce murmurs, bringing his arms up to wrap tightly around Tony's middle.  
  
He pulls Tony just a little closer, and presses his lips to Tony's throat. For the first time in a very long time he doesn't feel like he has to be alone. For all that he worries, Bruce thinks maybe if anyone could really handle all of his baggage and bullshit, it might be Tony Stark. Tony wants this, wants to be here, wants Bruce to be here, and that has to mean something. And maybe Pepper was right. Maybe he deserves a little happiness.  
  
“I'll stay,” he promises, “I'll stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is the the technology journal Tony mentions, JOTMI](http://www.jotmi.org/index.php/GT). I don't know if anyone refers to it as JOTMI but Tony probably would just to be different. ;)
> 
> I'm at bloodyhellkira.tumblr.com. Check in for snippets before they get posted here!


	9. Space and Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That was so good. Bruce wants to tell Tony so, wants to ramble on about it for hours, wants to let his tongue and his teeth run away from him, spewing forth all the words he's held in over the course of his lifetime. He wants to tell Tony in elaborate detail how good he makes Bruce feel, he wants to ask him for more. He wants.

Tilting Bruce's face up, Tony drops a soft kiss on his lips.  
  
“Those tests are gonna take a while.”  
  
“Yeah?” Bruce smirks, gaze a little bashful.  
  
“Yeah,” Tony grins, grabbing a handful of Bruce's ass and sliding him closer.  
  
Bruce lets out an explosive laugh, arms and legs flailing before wrapping tight around Tony.  
  
“You idiot,” he giggles.  
  
“Flattery gets you everything, Dr. Banner,” Tony rumbles, ducking his head to attack Bruce's neck with kisses.  
  
“That's terrifying, considering the size of your ego.”  
  
Tony doesn't respond though, he's too busy sucking and kissing at Bruce's neck, hips rolling rhythmically against Bruce's own.  
  
“Are...are we really going to do this here?” Bruce asks, sounding slightly out of breath.  
  
“I have a futon in the corner,” Tony murmurs against his jaw, grazing his teeth lightly over the skin there.  
  
“Maybe we should get over there, then.”  
  
With a grunt, Tony hauls Bruce up in his arms, face going red with effort as he strides over to the futon with purpose. Bruce clings to him with wide eyes, muttering curses the whole way and berating Tony for risking a hernia.  
  
“I work out,” Tony grumbles as he kneels down, momentum making him wince as his knees hit the firm mattress.  
  
“I'm the same size as you! You're either going to get a hernia or throw out your back!”  
  
“Fine, fine, now come on, we could be naked already.”  
  
Tony lays Bruce out underneath him and they fumble with buttons and zippers, wrestling their clothes off with distracted intent. A kiss here, then off with a shirt, a lick there, a hastily discarded sock, a nibble, and then shimmying out of pants...  
  
Until finally they're naked and Tony's thrusting down against Bruce, mouth wide and demanding as he kisses him. When he breaks off suddenly, Bruce leans up, blinking in confusion at the sudden lack of contact until Tony is turning around, taking Bruce's dick in hand and licking the head, presenting his own prick for Bruce's ministrations.  
  
“Um...” Bruce licks his lips.  
  
“Never 69ed before, Dr. Banner?” Tony smirks, stroking Bruce with a loose fist.  
  
“Actually no,” Bruce admits, breath hitching as pleasure starts building in his gut, “I've never gone down on another guy at all, to be honest.”  
  
Tony frowns and then rolls himself off, staring down at Bruce with disbelief.  
  
“Sorry, what?”  
  
“I've only ever been with one other guy, back in college, and that was mostly making out, hand jobs, and dry humping in the dorms.”  
  
“Oh my God,” Tony breathes, ignoring Bruce's wince, “I have so much debauching to do.”  
  
“Uh...”  
  
“Just follow my lead, ok?” Tony grins, “and watch the teeth.”  
  
“Ok, but...”  
  
Tony tosses his leg back over Bruce, and after a second's contemplation grabs a pillow, slinging it around.  
  
“Put that under your head so you don't get a neck cramp.”  
  
With that, Tony takes Bruce's prick into his mouth, laving the head with his tongue. Bruce sucks in a sharp breath and then groans low. Mischief twinkling in his eyes, Tony takes Bruce deeper, grunting as Bruce tentatively takes Tony in hand, giving him a few light strokes.  
  
Brow furrowed, Bruce licks his lips and then leans up, tongue tracing around the base of Tony's prick. He kisses along the shaft and then opens his mouth, taking it in, letting the weight rest on his tongue, closing his lips around it.  
  
He hesitates there for a second and then bobs his head, going a little too deep, gagging and coughing as he pulls away.  
  
“Easy,” Tony murmurs as he pulls off, stroking Bruce's thigh, “Just take it slow.”  
  
“Sorry...”  
  
“Don't be,” Tony says firmly, “this is fun, just enjoy it.”  
  
Eyes trailing towards the ceiling, Bruce huffs out a laugh, “Ok.”  
  
Taking a deep breath, Bruce's tongue snakes out, drawing Tony's prick back into his mouth. He closes his lips around it again, sucks a little, starts bobbing his head a little. He finds a rhythm, pays attention to what Tony is doing, mimics it when he thinks he can.  
  
There's something a little heady about it actually – the smell, the taste, the control. Bruce starts trying different things. Sucking hard as he pulls back, pressing his tongue to the slit, tracing the veins...  
  
Tony groans and moans, valiantly trying not to thrust, Bruce can feel it under his hands, can feel the contraction of muscle, the restraint. He lets his hands wander and is only dimly aware of Tony pulling off, of the feeling of spit and precum dribbling down his balls, behind them – the feeling of a slick finger pressing against his asshole.  
  
His hips buck, sharp and unexpected. His mouth goes wide as his head thuds softly back on the pillow, Tony's dick sliding against his cheek, leaving wet trails on his skin.  
  
Tony spits, he hears it, and then that finger is pressing just inside. It's electric and hot, Bruce chokes as Tony takes him in again, bobbing his head quickly, pushing Bruce closer to the edge.  
  
Then that finger is pressing just a little deeper, pushing against the second ring of muscle, and Tony sucks hard, hollowing his cheeks, and Bruce cums like a shot, back arching as he groans loud and long.  
  
Clint stands there momentarily in wide-eyed horror, turns on his heel, and walks out as quickly as he can without making any sound.  
  
Tony milks him, pulling his finger out so he can gently tease the head of Bruce's cock, making his orgasm last as long as possible. Small flashes of green set off behind Bruce's eyelids but he's too wrecked to worry about it. Soft, mewling gasps drag past his lips until Tony finally pulls his hand away, peppering soft kisses along Bruce's trembling thighs.  
  
Having caught his breath, Bruce shoves Tony off of him, rolling up onto his knees and pushing Tony up on the futon. Getting between Tony's knees, he lays himself out and takes Tony as deep as he can.  
  
“Wow, um...Oh!...oh, God,” Tony gasps, hands coming to Bruce's head, “holy shit...”  
  
That was so good. Bruce wants to tell Tony so, wants to ramble on about it for hours, wants to let his tongue and his teeth run away from him, spewing forth all the words he's held in over the course of his lifetime. He wants to tell Tony in elaborate detail how good he makes Bruce feel, he wants to ask him for more. He _wants_.  
  
But the words are terrifying. The words ache in his chest and burn in his throat, so Bruce settles for opening his mouth as wide as he can and swallowing Tony down whole.  
  
When he feels Tony tense underneath him, he pulls off, jacking him, startling slightly when cum hits his chin and chest. Tony groans, grunts, squirms and shudders. He _undulates_ , Bruce thinks, like some animal in heat.  
  
Swiping at his chin, Bruce stares at Tony's spunk on his fingers, testing the consistency between his thumb and forefinger. Licking his lips, he brings his fingers to his mouth, gaze becoming far away, and curious as his tongue slips out, tastes. It's a little sweet, but also faintly bitter. Bruce distantly wonders what Tony's been eating to make it taste that way.  
  
“Fuck,” Tony whispers, pupils blown wide as he watches.  
  
Bruce blushes as he realizes Tony's been watching him this entire time.  
  
“Um...”  
  
“That is so hot,” Tony rumbles, “and I am so spent. We should...let's go get cleaned up. I need to...”  
  
Tony hauls Bruce up, kissing him breathless.  
  
“I want to touch every inch of you. I want to map out your skin with my tongue and...can I? Can I do that? Is that ok?”  
  
Wide eyed, Bruce stares into the face of Tony's unbridled enthusiasm, “Um...yeah? Yes. I...yes.”  
  
Tony dives back into the kiss, wrapping his limbs around Bruce, holding him close.  
  
But he's not rushing.  
  
There's really no hurry.  
  
–  
  
Pepper comes into the kitchen to find Clint flushing his eyes with water in the sink.  
  
“Clint?” she lays a hand on his back, voice all concern, “Did you get something in your eye?”  
  
“Yeah,” Clint mutters miserably, “but I think it already burned itself into my brain forever.”  
  
Smiling in confusion, Pepper shakes her head, “Did you see something that can't be unseen?”  
  
“Yeah, I...” he straightens, face dripping wet, and gives her a wide-eyed look of horror, “Um...”  
  
“Oh, you walked in on Bruce and Tony,” she guesses.  
  
“Uh...” he nods, brow furrowing, “Yeah how...”  
  
“It's ok. I know all about it,” she smiles, grabbing a hand towel and patting his cheek with it, “I'll remind them about locking doors, though.”  
  
He takes the towel and watches her leave, brow knit, and mouth slightly slack.  
  
“I need an adult,” Clint mutters.  
  
“I'm sorry, sir,” JARVIS says, unprompted, “I don't believe anyone currently present qualifies.”  
  
Clint glances up at the ceiling, frowning, “Hey.”  
  
His gaze drops down again and he shrugs, “Good burn.”  
  
“Thank you, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snippets will be posted on bloodyhellkira.tumblr.com
> 
> I had a lot of fun with this chapter. :)


	10. Flow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My massive ego is endearing but my pet names are cause for despair?” Tony snorts, “Really?”
> 
> “There's probably something wrong with me,” Bruce acknowledges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snippets will be posted on tumblr! http://bloodyhellkira.tumblr.com/

Fingers tracing random patterns over and around Tony's hip bone, Bruce is lost in concentration, eyes roaming aimlessly over the ceiling.  
  
“3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197169399375105820974944592307816406286208998628034825342117067982148086513282306647093844609550582231725359408128481117450284102701938521105559644622948954930381964428810975665933446128475648233786783165271201909145648566923460348610454326648213393607260249141273724587006606315588174881520920962829254091715364367892590360...shit,” Bruce smiles in annoyed amusement, bringing his other hand up to tangle in his hair, “ _shit_.”  
  
Tony laughs, turning his face towards him, “I don't even know how you got that far.”  
  
“Before I started meditating I used to try to memorize as many digits of pi as I could. Believe it or not I used to know more.”  
  
“Good exercise in mindlessness.”  
  
Face scrunching up, Bruce shakes his head, “Sometimes I would get frustrated and then...”  
  
“Angry,” Tony finishes, taking Bruce's hand.  
  
“So I had to give that one up,” Bruce continues, “I guess it would be a neat party trick...if I went to parties.”  
  
“Nerd parties,” Tony chuckles, “Because we're such nerds.”  
  
Laughter bubbling up inside him, Bruce turns over, curling in closer.  
  
“I think you're talking about table top and LARPing.”  
  
“Conventions,” Tony nods, “the biggest nerd parties of all.”  
  
“Have you ever been to one?”  
  
Nose crinkling, Tony shakes his head, watching his fingers as they trail up and down Bruce's arm.  
  
“I wouldn't be able to enjoy it. I couldn't just geek out, I'd have to...”  
  
“Perform?” Bruce guesses.  
  
“Yeah,” Tony sighs, “Which is fun sometimes...”  
  
“Because you have an ego the size of Manhattan?”  
  
“My ego is way bigger than Manhattan, Bruce, let's be realistic.”  
  
“I really shouldn't find that endearing,” Bruce laments, eyes dropping to Tony's lips.  
  
They lean in and kiss, once, twice. Bruce licks his lips, chasing the taste, and Tony reaches out, pulling Bruce closer. Their breath mingles in the minimal space between them and Bruce shuts his eyes, pressing their foreheads together, trying to memorize every second because he knows in a moment it could be gone.  
  
Pepper shuffles in, pausing to smile at them.   
  
“So, you've psychologically damaged Clint for life.”  
  
Bruce sits up quickly, yanking the sheet up over his crotch, and then ducking his head, giving her a self-deprecating smile once the shock wears off.  
  
“Hi, Pepper.”  
  
Tony flings his limbs out in a triumphant flail, “Progress!”  
  
Chuckling, Bruce shuts his eyes, “Thanks, Tony.”  
  
“I'm so proud of you, Brucey.”  
  
“Oh, God, don't start with the pet names,” Bruce groans.  
  
Shaking her head, Pepper gives him a sympathetic look, “I hate to tell you this, Bruce, but there's no escaping Tony's pet names. It's just a matter of time.”  
  
“No...” Bruce laughingly moans, dropping back onto the pillows.  
  
“My massive ego is endearing but my pet names are cause for despair?” Tony snorts, “Really?”  
  
“There's probably something wrong with me,” Bruce acknowledges.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Tony drapes himself over Bruce, kissing him solidly.  
  
“Hey, Pep, I'm going to kiss him all over and possibly be mushy. Just a warning.”  
  
“Need some help?”  
  
Bruce's head pops up, face screwed up in some mixture of surprise and panic.  
  
Pepper bursts out laughing.  
  
“I'm sorry!” she flaps her hands before covering her face, “I'm so sorry!”  
  
Tony smirks down at Bruce, “You see why I love her, right?”  
  
“I think I'm starting to,” Bruce nods, flushing with mild embarrassment.  
  
Pausing suddenly, Tony blinks, turning back to Pepper.   
  
“Wait, how did we damage Clint, psychologically or otherwise?”  
  
Bruce sits up, equally curious, eyebrow raised in question.  
  
“He walked in on you two. I found him trying to wash his eyes out in the kitchen.”  
  
“Drama queen,” Tony huffs.  
  
Scoffing, Bruce shakes his head with a smile, “Says the biggest drama queen _in the world_.”  
  
“I am not!” Tony balks, offended, “we're in New York. Broadway alone is full – _filled to bursting_ \- with bigger drama queens than me.”  
  
“Right,” Pepper nods, mockingly serious, “Of course.”  
  
“Sir,” JARVIS interjects, “the PCR machine has finished with Dr. Banner's blood samples.”  
  
Pepper frowns up at the ceiling, “Blood samples?”  
  
Tony and Bruce both go quiet, eyes meeting and then falling away to the mattress.  
  
“Um...” Bruce grimaces.  
  
“Is this a tea and pajamas situation?” she sighs.  
  
Shaking his head, Tony sits up, “I don't think anything is really going to soften this one up, honey. Come sit down.”  
  
“Oh, God,” Pepper blanches, “how bad is it?”  
  
“It might not be bad at all...” Tony edges.  
  
“We're not sure, exactly,” Bruce shrugs, not wanting to worry her more than is necessary.  
  
Glancing between them, Pepper sits on the edge of the mattress.  
  
“So?” She sighs.  
  
“Bruce got hit with some alien technology that changed some of his physiology and it's messing with his hormones,” Tony explains succinctly, “We're running some tests to see if we can figure out exactly what happened and how to reverse it.”  
  
“Are you alright?” Pepper asks, brow faintly furrowed.  
  
“I'm um...” Bruce licks his lips, glancing at Tony, “I'm not sure.”  
  
Pepper's gaze drops to the mattress, mouth going slack for a second as she sucks in a breath. Looking up again, she edges closer and touches Bruce's cheek.  
  
Brow knitting, Bruce presses his lips together, jaw working as his chin drops. His eyelids droop as he struggles to reign in his emotions.  
  
“I'm kind of scared actually.”  
  
Tony reaches out, stroking his knuckles along Bruce's jawline.  
  
“I'm going to take care of you, ok?”  
  
“ _We're_ going to take care of you,” Pepper amends.  
  
“Yes we are,” Tony agrees, smiling softly at her.  
  
Tucking the sheets around him a little more carefully, Pepper scoots forward and pulls Bruce into a hug. Shrugging his eyebrows with approval, Tony shuffles closer, wrapping around Bruce from behind. For a moment Bruce struggles with a strange feeling of anxiety until he reminds himself that their arms are not a cage – he's not a prisoner in this embrace. He sags a little, swallowing past the lump in his throat and shutting his eyes against the sting of tears.   
  
Tony kisses his shoulder and then the nape of his neck, giving him a warm, solid squeeze.  
  
“I'm gonna go check on those samples,” he murmurs against Bruce's skin, “Stay here?”  
  
“Ok,” Bruce acquiesces instantly, voice soft and low.  
  
Pepper kicks off her shoes and scoots until she's propped against the headboard, pulling Bruce into her arms and dropping a kiss into his hair. He goes without protest. It's been so long since he's had this – just simple comfort when he needed it. He's not even sure how to say no. He presses his face into her neck as Tony gets dressed, not able to reach out and touch back, but reveling in the feeling of fingers in his hair, the smooth sweep of a hand over his shoulder. He's distantly aware of Tony leaving but he just stays still, eyes tightly shut.  
  
“It's going to be alright,” Pepper whispers, sweet and sure.  
  
Bruce can only shake his head, face still pressed solidly against her neck. She shushes him, reassures him, but he doesn't mean that he doesn't believe her – maybe he doesn't but then maybe Tony has another miracle up his sleeve – it's just that it's overwhelming. These words, this touch, the impossibility of this moment. He means “Stop. Stop talking, stop saying these things, stop being so nice. Stop caring so much. I don't deserve this, I don't. It won't last and it'll kill me inside but I won't die, no matter how much I want to. Don't do this to me. Please don't.”  
  
The only thing that escapes his mouth is a pained sob heaved out on a choked breath. His throat is too tight, his whole body is trembling with restraint, with holding back. Pepper just holds him closer, keeps making the same soothing noises, murmuring nonsense in his ear.  
  
He feels the warm press of her lips against his forehead, her arms solid and steady around him, and suddenly...he's alright. He is. Like some sensory memory swept over him and took him back to some moment, some point in time when everything was actually ok, before his world fell to pieces around him. Pepper's cheek is pressed to the top of his head now and he wiggles in closer, arm finally circling around her waist. His breath becomes steady, his heart beat slows – it's alright, no matter how much it might not be, and he knows suddenly, with a fierce certainty, that he's finally found home.  
  
By the time Tony comes back, Bruce is just staring off at the wall, lips quirking up occasionally at the nonsense patterns Pepper is tracing onto his shoulder with her fingertips. Pepper's head is propped on his, her eyes shut, her feet tucked under the sheet to keep warm. Tony smiles at them and when Bruce looks up he smiles back.  
  
“Hey,” he says softly, voice barely above a whisper.  
  
“Hey,” Tony replies, voice filled with warmth.  
  
“Results?” Pepper asks around a yawn.  
  
“Nothing conclusive yet,” Tony grumbles, “I'm gonna make a few calls in the morning. Might be time for some people to make good on a few favors they owe me.”  
  
Tony kicks off his shoes and starts tugging the blankets into some semblance of order, pushing Pepper up and towards the bathroom for her nightly routine. Bruce sits up and goes to retrieve his boxers before climbing back into bed and trying to help arrange everything into some state that Tony seems determined to achieve. It's not even a question that he's staying.  
  
Grabbing a pillow, and tossing it at Tony, Bruce asks, “Why do you have so many these?”  
  
Tony catches it and glares faintly before shrugging.   
  
“It's kind of hard sleeping in certain positions with the uh...” he gestures at his chest, “arc reactor.”  
  
Smile fading, Bruce's eyes drop to the familiar blue glow, “Oh...um...sorry, I...”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Tony tosses the pillow back at him, “It's not a big deal, Bruce, don't worry about it.”  
  
So Bruce doesn't. He curls under the covers and lets Tony wrap around him. When Pepper gets in behind him he only smirks when Tony starts going on about her being “the best big spoon, no really” until Pepper laughingly tells him to shut up and go to sleep.  
  
Tony kisses his nose and Pepper kisses his shoulder and it hurts – but it's a good hurt.  
  
It hurts like healing.


	11. Lightyears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're a chance I'm willing to take.

Bruce half wakes to warm kisses across his shoulders. The tickle of Tony's goatee is absent and he realizes, through the haze of sleep, that it must be Pepper.

 

His internal clock is telling him it is an ungodly hour of the morning, though, so Bruce just snuggles deeper into the mattress and the tangle of blankets until an amused breath is huffed out against his skin, the mattress shifts, and the warmth retreats from his back.

 

He hears the quiet murmur of voices and feels his body go heavy, like he's in a trance. Drifting in and out of sleep, Bruce becomes dimly aware of the soft hush of the shower; the muffled sound of Pepper's moans and Tony's low laughter. The sharp-sweet smell of Pepper's perfume wafts over him...when did they get out of the shower? Then there's the wet sound of their kissing, right at the foot of the bed. A hand caresses his ankle and he grunts softly, a deep noise in the back of his throat he's not even sure anyone but him can hear. Pepper whispers a goodbye and Bruce tries to lift his head, to say something, but he's shushed and petted, the blankets tucked in more firmly around him.

 

A few minutes later Tony presses up against his back, kissing along the same path Pepper had blazed with her own lips earlier. Bruce releases a contented sigh and falls fully, finally, back to sleep.

 

When he wakes up the alarm clock is chirping out some tropical bird song and gentle chimes. Tony is still solidly pressed up against him, breath tickling the back of his neck. He stretches as unobtrusively as possible, careful to keep himself in the now familiar embrace of Tony's arms. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth when he feels Tony's grip on him tighten. Two open mouthed kisses tease along his hairline and he takes hold of Tony's hand, bringing it to his chest.

 

Tony gives his hand a squeeze and releases it, palming Bruce's chest and abdomen, circling around his prick and giving it a slow, sweet pull.

 

“JARVIS, alarm off.”

 

The alarm goes silent and Bruce sucks in a breath as Tony strokes him to hardness, fingers light and teasing. After a few minutes of that, Tony pauses to untangle them from the nest of sheets and blankets, helping Bruce pull off his boxers and smirking as he shimmies out of his own. Guiding Bruce halfway onto his stomach, he insinuates his hand between Bruce and the mattress, taking firm hold of him again. Tony's prick slides between Bruce's legs, between his ass cheeks, sending a sharp thrill up Bruce's spine and straight back down to his gut.

 

He remembers the electric pleasure of that single finger. He can't quite help it when he thrusts back against Tony's crotch, wanting more – so much more. Without Bruce speaking a word Tony seems to understand. He shifts to the side, sliding a finger down to tease Bruce's hole, smirking at the soft gasp, the low groan.

 

A brief panic flares in Bruce's chest.

 

“Pain,” Bruce shakes his head, “Pain can set me off.”

 

“So, I won't hurt you,” Tony grins against his ear.

 

“Tony...” Bruce protests, rolling over onto his back.

 

Ducking his head, Tony nods, “Ok, look, I get it. You're afraid of the Big Guy making an appearance, I'm not...”

 

“...I'm seeing green flashes when I orgasm.”  
  


“That good, huh?”

 

“ _Tony_.”

 

Holding up his hands in surrender, Tony gives Bruce an apologetic smile, “I'm sorry. But...you're ok, right? Nothing bad has happened and it'll probably go away once we get you back to normal.”

 

“I don't know if my condition could be called _normal_.”

 

“Whatever. Normal for _you_.”

 

“I...I haven't had sex with anyone since um...”

 

Eyes going a little wide, Tony's mouth goes slack as he chokes on a breath, “In...all those years and not _one_...?”

 

Bruce shakes his head, corners of his mouth turning up in an uncomfortable smile.

 

A thought occurs to Tony, and he quirks his head, “Please tell me you at least masturbated every once in a while.”

 

“Uh...no.”

 

“Ok,” he breathes, “Ooookay. Wow.”

 

Pressing his lips together, Tony finally notices Bruce's discomfort.

 

“Sorry, it's...not a big deal. I mean, to me. I don't know how you feel about it exactly it's just...”

 

“It's fine, Tony,” Bruce hurries to assure him, “Really it's...”

 

Rolling his eyes, Tony flops back onto the mattress.

 

“It doesn't have to be fine,” Tony grumbles, “Nothing has to be fine. You're allowed to have a problem with me when I'm being an idiot.”

 

Huffing out a laugh, Bruce throws his gaze to the ceiling and briefly ponders on how the hell he came to this point.

 

“It's actually alright, Tony. I don't...I just don't want us to get derailed.”

 

“Less talk, more sex?”

 

“Yeah,” Bruce grins.

 

Tony shifts back up onto his knees, “So what are you comfortable with?”

 

Shrugging his shoulders, Bruce heaves out a breath and raises his eyebrows, waving a hand around in the air.

 

“Uh...pretty much nothing. This is new territory for me.”

 

He gives Tony an apologetic smile and takes his hand.

 

“I've liked everything we've done so far and it's not that I don't trust you...I just...I don't trust myself.”

 

“You haven't hurt me yet,” Tony points out.

 

“ _Yet_.”

 

Gaze falling down to the mattress, Tony nods.

 

“You're a chance I'm willing to take,” he says after a moment.

 

His lips quirk up at one corner, a sparkle coming to his eye.

 

“JARVIS, play Erasure's _Take a Chance on Me_.”

 

The song filters in from the speakers and Tony starts shimmying and grooving along.

 

Bruce can't help but laugh as he's jostled around the bed.

 

“Tony... _Tony_...”

 

He grabs him and rolls them over, kissing Tony soundly.

 

“Ok,” he chuckles, “I get it.”

 

Tony slides his hands up Bruce's back to his shoulders, leaning up for more kisses.

 

“What do you want?” Tony murmurs into the kiss, “Anything...whatever you want.”

 

His hands are roaming restlessly over Bruce's body, squeezing, petting, _urging_. Bruce thrusts down against him, higher brain function slowly shutting down as he gets caught up in the moment, the touch, the quickly pooling heat in his groin.

 

“You,” Bruce rushes out on a breath, “Tony...”

 

Not having the words, Bruce takes Tony's hand and pulls it down, putting it where he wants it, sucking in a breath when Tony begins teasing him.

 

Dragging his teeth over the tender flesh of Bruce's neck, Tony chuckles at Bruce's full body shiver, and rumbles lowly in his ear.

 

“On your back.”

 

Bruce rolls over, watching as Tony digs through the side table for lube and condoms. He wants to lick up the line of Tony's spine and leave a hickey on the back of his neck, so he surges up and does just that, before pressing their bodies together, and reaching around to stroke Tony's prick.

 

“Ok...” Tony gasps, breathing ragged, “Ok, I can't give you what you want if you won't let me.”

 

“Right,” Bruce mutters, “Right, sorry, I...”

 

He flops back down and watches Tony situate himself. Tony flicks open the lube and pushes one of Bruce's legs up, licking his lips as bends down to mouth up the length of Bruce's prick.

 

Bruce's mouth falls open, eyes flicking over the ceiling as his hips jerk of their own volition. The first finger had slid in easily, he hadn't imagined it wouldn't, but he also hadn't imagined his body would react so strongly to the intrusion. The juxtaposition between Tony's mouth and hand, the warring of sensory input, is nothing like he's ever felt before. He can't tell where his focus should be. Tony sucks at the head of his cock, takes him deeper, slips in another finger, thrusts those fingers in and out, scissors them, hums deep in his throat...

 

Bruce can't help the twitches and thrusts, the moans or gasps, the keening sounds that punctuate the silence. The song has long since stopped and it's only the music they're making to fill the space.

 

Whatever reservations he had are gone.

 

Fingers still buried firmly in Bruce's ass, Tony leans up so he can look in his face, and kiss him. He pauses, going still when he sees the dark flush, the lust blown pupils, the faint shimmer of sweat – he hadn't realized he'd gotten Bruce so wound up.

 

“How you feeling?”

 

“What?” Bruce asks, brow furrowing as he tries to focus.

 

Tony smirks and kisses him.

 

“Nothing,” he chuckles.

 

Tony settles between Bruce's legs and lines himself up, kissing at whatever skin he can get at – neck, jawline, cheek, ear. Bruce is drunk on touch, groaning lowly as Tony finally slides in, not ceasing the slow, inexorable push until their hips are flush. Forehead to forehead, they breathe the others breath.

 

The first thrust makes the exhale catch in Bruce's throat. He's aware of it, the way the air is stuck in his lungs, but he's not sure he can remember what to do next. Then Tony pulls back and Bruce sucks in a long, shuddering breath. He thinks he should be doing something but he can't think what. His hands smooth up Tony's ribs, around to his back, pull him closer. That's good, the slight weight of Tony's body on his.

 

It's a slow, sweet build. They kiss as Tony keeps up the same, steady pace, and Bruce starts to feel a different kind of fire in his gut. Something deeper, more intense. He holds onto it for as long as he can, until Tony reaches between them and begins stroking Bruce's cock.

 

When he cums there's only the barest pin prick flashes of green dancing at the edges of his vision. It's consuming, and good, his spine arching, his toes curling. Then Tony cums too, holding him, shaking, and Bruce clings to him because he's possessed by the sudden anxiety of losing everything again.

 

It's brief, though – there and gone again. They kiss and kiss and lay tangled up in each others arms until their bodies cool. Until they rouse themselves to finally start the day.

 

After a shower, Bruce crowds Tony against the dresser and kisses him, both of them half dressed.

 

Tony hums his pleasure into Bruce's mouth, fingers tangling in his hair. They kiss like that for a while until Tony's stomach rumbles loudly.

 

“God, I'm starving. Food...um...”

 

“Right...yeah, uh...of course,” Bruce murmurs against Tony's cheek, struggling to pull away.

 

“I'll...” Tony pushes back, keeping Bruce at arm's length, “I am never going to get anything done ever again. Ok. Ok. JARVIS, the deli that Pepper likes...breakfast special. Two of 'em.”

 

“I'll arrange for delivery, shall I?”

 

“Good, yes. Delivery. Thanks, JARVIS.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

They manage to get dressed and then Pepper texts something to Tony, which engrosses him suddenly and completely.

 

“Company stuff?” Bruce squints, reading over Tony's shoulder.

 

“The board is giving her shit again...bastards. I figured, she's been kinda tense lately, I should've asked...”

 

Wrapping his arms around Tony's waist, Bruce tilts his head in consideration.

 

“We could make her dinner.”

 

“I'm a terrible cook.”

 

“I'm...decent.”

 

Tony raises an eyebrow, turning his head and twisting to try to look Bruce in the face.

 

“Define decent.”

 

“I can follow a recipe and produce consistent results. If you're ok with chemistry, then you should be able to at least do that much.”

 

Tony makes a grumbling noise and turns back to his phone. He swipes away at the screen and Bruce rests his chin on Tony's shoulder.

 

“Is...is that a list of her favorite foods?” he smirks in amusement.

 

“I'm...” Tony turns in his arms, looking a little ashamed, which immediately saps all the mirth out of Bruce.

 

“What?” Bruce prods.

 

“I'm a terrible boyfriend. I suck at all this romantic stuff, I...I'm really dense. And I say all the wrong shit. I forget dates...I mean, birthdays and anniversaries, but also actual dates. I'll leave people sitting in a restaurant or at a bar...”

 

“Sshh...Tony...”

 

“No, I'm not being...this is more than just insecurity, I am actually like this. Pepper will tell you. Ask any of my exes. They're all of them right about me...except Anne, but Anne had uh...” he waggles his fingers at his head, “issues. She's seeing a doctor.”

 

“She hates you that much?”

 

“No, no. She thinks I'm great, that's the problem. I was awful to Anne.”

 

Bruce shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh making his shoulders shake.

 

“Well...”

 

“Listen, let me finish,” Tony interrupts, “I'm the worst boyfriend in the world...I mean, not the worst, I don't hit anyone, or anything like that, but...I suck. Ok? I really suck, so I make lists, and I set reminders, I beg for anyone who sticks around to tell me when I'm being a jerk, because I won't know if you don't tell me.”

 

His gaze drops for a moment, and then flicks back up, eyes sad and a little pleading.

 

“Please tell me when I'm fucking up. I don't want to ruin any of this.”

 

Biting his bottom lip, Bruce nods. He knows better than to try to reassure Tony because it'll be empty. Tony, for all that he's prone to theatrics, is pretty brutally honest, most especially about himself.

 

“I really like Italian food,” he says finally.

 

The sadness is gone from Tony's eyes between one blink and the next. His gaze traces over Bruce's features fondly as a smile slowly spreads across his lips.

 

Bruce smiles softly in return, “So what should we make her?”

 

“She has a soft spot for the simple things. We bonded over sliders when we first started dating.”

 

Bruce nods and presses a quick kiss to Tony's lips.

 

“I'm pretty sure I can make that.”

 

“I'll uh...”

 

“Get the ingredients we'll need?”

 

“Right, good. Plan of action.”

 

JARVIS comes over the comm, “Sir? Your food has arrived and the delivery person is waiting to be let in.”

 

“I'll go get it,” Bruce says, finally pulling himself more than a foot away from Tony for the first time that morning.

 

“Ok,” Tony nods, watching him go.

 

He looks down at his phone and begins putting in a new note. 

 

_Food Bruce Likes_ ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
